


If I Paint You Wings

by wordcraze



Series: If I Paint You Wings [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:15:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 35,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordcraze/pseuds/wordcraze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn and Harry were childhood friends who strayed from each other in high school. But when they find themselves in the same college, they try and patch up their broken relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

Zayn tried to be happy about it. He really did. He sat in the back of the taxi, drowning out the radio chatter, while his forehead pressed against the window. His lids slowly lowered over his eyes when the campus came into view, and he swallowed back, willing his stomach to stop the backflips. When he was home, he wished to go elsewhere. And now that he was elsewhere, he wished to go home. He remembered how happy he was, and how surreal it all felt when his family dropped him off at the airport, ready to ship him off to sunny California. Well, his mother had been less than ready, and Zayn fully believed that if he had asked to stay, she would let him. But he had to do this, to leave his old life behind. Not that high school was too terrible. In fact, he made quite a name for himself in the halls of Dennison. It was just the Harry factor that didn't sit well with him. It never did. 

The taxi came to a stop, and he pulled out his two suitcases and a duffle bag. He didn't have much on him, but he had the weekend before classes officially started to buy whatever essentials he needed. Compared to most schools, Highlands University was a bit smaller. But from where he stood, and being completely new, Zayn had never seen anything bigger. A part of him wished his parents came along for the journey, since the place was packed with mums and dads helping their kids move in. Zayn felt a pang of homesickness, but he took a deep breath, and decided there was nothing else to do but move forward. 

There were three main dorming areas. One was a bit run down and lacked proper heating and air conditioning called Miller Hall, the second was an all girls living space (even though Zayn saw more guys lounging around that area) called Lancaster-Hendricks, Landricks for short, and the third was a cluster of housing units called The Redwoods, each building with three floors, and the interior looking just like the inside of a house. That was Zayn's dorm, and he let out a sigh of relief, mentally thanking his mother for nagging him about filling out the housing forms earlier than usual. 

He made his way down the hall, stepping aside for the many students and parents going to and fro. The door to his room was already unlocked, and he stepped inside to see that one half of the room had already been claimed. The bed was neatly made, and the desk beside it was set up and organized with a laptop, a small lamp, and a stack of books. Zayn didn't know much about his roommate except that his name was Liam Payne and he was a sophomore. 

Unpacking took his mind off the nerves and sickness that came with being in a new place, and being faced with the fact that he'd have to live there for four years. After he had put away all his clothes, he realized that his hands were trembling a little bit. He needed a cigarette. Zayn wove through the small crowd in the halls, then made his way down the stairs, and out of the building. He knew smoking wasn't allowed, so he went off a little way to an area that seemed to be more secluded. He pulled out a cigarette, put it between his lips, then lit it. After taking a long drag, he calmed down a little, then sat down on a bench to unwind. How great of an idea was this to be so far from home? A small part of Zayn was regretting it. He had never even been out of his own city, and now here he was in a completely different country. And since he could feel an anxiety attack creeping up on him, he decided to just shut down his thoughts while he finished his cigarette. He then flicked it on the ground, crushed it beneath his boot, and walked back to his building. 

Everything seemed to be winding down a bit. Most people were done with their packing, and they all huddled around the lounge, which consisted of a few couches, a big screen TV, and a kitchen in the back. Each floor had one. Zayn wasn't ready to be social just yet (or ever), so he briskly walked past his loud floormates, and went inside his room. There was a boy, already tapping away on the laptop. 

He turned around, smiled, then stood up and held out a hand. "You must be Zayn. I'm Liam." 

Zayn reached out, grasped Liam's hand, and gave it a firm shake. "Good to meet you." 

"I guess this is where we state the rules of the room, right?" Liam crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, I haven't really got any rules. I've always got some healthy snacks laying around, which I call 'room snacks,' meaning it's for the room, so I'm not one of those nightmarish stingy roommates that won't share food. I also share pencils, pens, printer ink along with the paper, and.. erm... everything, really. Sharing is caring." 

Zayn just stared at his new roommate, not really knowing what to say at first, but he managed to reply with, "I, uh... I haven't got rules either." 

"Brilliant!" Liam clapped him on the back. "Anyway, I'm off to get my textbooks. Have you got yours yet?" 

"Er... no, I'm going to wait until classes start." 

Liam shook his head. "Better get a move on, mate. You get better deals with used books, and I'm getting my hands on them before everyone else. Dinner's at five, so see you then." He waved, then dashed out of the room. 

All Zayn could think about his new roommate was 'It could've been worse.' He plopped down on his bed and shut his eyes, but the second he did, every single thought rushed into his brain. Why do brains do that anyway? Right when you're about to get some rest, they start to get active with their "Hey, remember when you..." or "You shouldn't have done that thing..." It was bloody annoying. He sighed heavily and sat up, then saw that the door was shut. Zayn decided to leave it latched, so Liam didn't have to use his key when he returned. He opened the door just a crack, but something caught his eye as he did so. A mess of curls whizzed by, and he thought he was seeing things. Of course he was seeing things. There were plenty of people with curly hair. But then again, there was only one person he knew of who had _those_ unruly curls, but it just couldn't be. 

He opened the door a little wider. No, his eyes had to be playing tricks on him. There, unlocking the room right next to his, was the last person he expected to see. His body froze, his mind was blank, and his voice barely worked. 

"Harry?" 

The figure froze as well, and goosebumps were evident on his arm. He turned around, his green eyes wide, and his face pale like he just saw a ghost. 

"Zayn," Harry whispered. 

Zayn leaned against the doorframe, which was the only thing keeping him steady. There was one thing that he was determined to run away from, and here it was in front of him. 

_Shit_.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn tries to get through his days without running into Harry. But that proves to be difficult since they live in the same dorm.

“So what you’re saying is…” Liam paused, trying to mentally catch up. He had just gotten out of one of his many math classes at the same time Zayn’s art history class ended. “You moved thousands of miles away to escape someone only to have him be in the exact same place?”

Yes,” Zayn replied.

“In the exact same building?”

“Yeah.”

“In the exact same hall.”

“Liam, I get it.”

“In the room right next to yo—”

“Liam!” Zayn let out an exasperated sigh. “Yes. All unfortunate, I know. Is it too late to transfer?”

Liam perked his eyebrows, “I’ll have a room all to myself then.”

“No, you won’t. They’ll move in some obnoxious freshman who has an aversion to hygiene and doesn’t share your love for Maltesers.”

This seemed to change Liam’s mind a bit, and he placed a hand on Zayn’s shoulder, “In that case, don’t go anywhere. Stay here and put up with the torture. They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

Zayn knew that this was much easier said than done, and he wasn’t sure exactly how he was going to deal with it, if he even should deal with it at all. Seeing Harry in the hall had been the first time he’d seen him since graduation, he hadn’t known what to say. Harry seemed pretty shaken up too, and they had stood in silence for a few seconds before they burst into overlapping questions “What are you doing here?” “I go to school here” “I go to school here too” Why?” “Why?” “Why?” After spending years sitting across the room from each other, now they were forced to live side by side. Life was quite cruel in its irony.

They strolled into the cafeteria at around 5:15, just in time to beat the dinner rush.

“Brinner!” Liam exclaimed.

“What?” Zayn looked at him curiously.

“Brinner,” Liam repeated, as if what he was saying was something completely obvious. “The cafeteria’s having breakfast foods for dinner. It’s brilliant.” He grabbed a tray and a plate, then began to load it with eggs.

Zayn sighed and followed suit. Not even brinner could take his mind off the problem at hand. After his awkward run-in with Harry, they both shut themselves up in their rooms, not daring to come out just in case they crossed paths again. Zayn didn’t want to switch rooms since he quite liked Liam, and he wasn’t sure if Harry would be willing to give up The Redwoods for Miller Hall. Probably not.

Liam chose a seat by the windows, and Zayn sat across from him. He watched Liam for a moment, who had gotten some soup but was drinking it straight out of the bowl.

“Why don’t you use a spoon?” Zayn asked.

“I bloody hate spoons. They scare me.”

Zayn opened his mouth with every intention of asking why Liam had such hatred for spoons, when he spotted a large and rambunctious group of boys walk into the cafeteria. They all were wearing Greek letters. The only thing Zayn knew about fraternities and sororities was what he saw in movies and on TV, but other than that, he was clueless, and the television’s version of Greek life was all he had to base his opinion on. And he didn’t like them. It was almost a surprise to see Harry and his roommates, Louis and Niall, tagging along. Of course this fraternity would want someone like Harry.

“What frat are they?” Zayn asked quietly.

Liam glanced over his shoulder to see what Zayn was talking about, then quickly looked back at him. “Oh god, don’t ever let them hear you call them a ‘frat.’ It’s apparently the wrong thing to do. Anyway, they’re Alpha Delta Epsilon. Why? You want to rush?”

Zayn made a face. “No. Hell no.” Then he added casually. Or what he thought was casual. “But Harry does, I guess.”

“The Alphas are tough to get into,” Liam looked towards their table. “I had a roommate last year who went through the entire hazing process and didn’t get in. He threw a fit.”

“You didn’t rush?”

“Me?” Liam shook his head. “God, no. I’m married to my major. I haven’t time for all the things they do.”

Zayn slowly chewed his food, trying not to be obvious as he glanced over towards the Alphas’ table. Harry already looked like he fit in with them, and all he was missing were Greek letters on his shirt. Opposite sides of the room again. Opposite sides of everything. It felt exactly like high school.

“Hey,” came Liam’s voice, soft and knowing. “This isn’t high school anymore, alright? You don’t have to hold on to that grudge, and you can’t let it be an albatross around your neck. Drop it, Zayn. You’ll realize there are more important things than that.”

The muscle in Zayn’s jaw twitched as he gritted his teeth. “I’m not hungry. I’m going to go paint.”

Liam let out a huff. “Well, don’t be an arse and leave me here by myself. At least let me finish my eggs first.”

Zayn chuckled and nodded, then leaned back in his seat to wait for Liam to finish. But his smile slowly faded. He thought he’d seen Harry glance his way.

—-

The media building’s top floor was a sanctuary for Zayn. Nobody was ever around, especially at night, and Zayn took this opportunity to sit at the easel and paint whatever came to mind. He never had an established image in mind when he painted. Instead, he would coat the canvas with whatever color he felt like that day. Today was orange, and he began layering various shades of orange, along with red and yellow, until there was no trace of white left. Now he was thinking about an ocean sunset.

Zayn’s fingers were coated with orange, and his face somehow had flecks of paint on them. He wasn’t sure how paint managed to get everywhere, but that was the curse of an artist. Paint-dotted skin and clothes. He was completely immersed in his work, when he heard someone stomp up the stairs and walk into the room. The only person who knew he was here was Liam, and Zayn really wouldn’t mind the company, so he turned his head to greet him. Only it wasn’t Liam. It was Harry.

He lowered his brush, and his stomach flipped.

On Harry’s face was the initial shock, then it turned into confusion. “I… erm… I think I’m lost.” His cheeks turned red, and he glanced around the room, the panic evident in his expression. “My roommate left his phone in the cafeteria, and he’s working on the radio. Erm, this is the media building, right?”

Zayn nodded, and found that his voice didn’t work. But he forced a cough, then quickly licked his bottom lip. “Radio’s downstairs.”

Harry lifted a hand, then pointed down. “Downstairs. Oh, right. Downstairs.” He took a step back, but he hesitated. He then opened his mouth, ready to speak, but nothing came out. Like he was still trying to form sentences in his brain before saying them out loud. “Strange, isn’t it?” he finally said. “You and I ending up in the same university.”

Zayn shrugged. “Yeah. Odd.”

Harry shifted his weight from one leg to the other, glancing at the floor like he still had more to say. “I know we haven’t really got on that well back home.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, did I?” Zayn snapped.

Harry’s cheeks flushed a darker crimson, and he scratched the back of his head. “It was complicated, Z.”

A jolt of anger ran through Zayn’s body at Harry’s old nickname for him, but he remained as calm as possible. “Radio’s downstairs,” he said coldly.

Harry nodded, taking this as his cue to go. He turned on his heel, and made his way to the stairs. “I’m sorry.”

As Harry disappeared down the stairs, Zayn mumbled quietly to himself, “Me too.”


	3. 3

After crushing his cigarette and flicking it into the nearest trash bin, Zayn hopped up the stairs, two steps at a time, into the building of his last class of the week. Thursday morning seemed like the best time to end his week, and he made sure of it while sorting out his schedule. Three day weekends for an entire semester wasn't a bad deal at all.

He rather liked this building. It was old, and white, with Greek columns. A bit compact on the inside, but had a homey feel to it. Zayn pulled out his phone and looked over his schedule. American Poetry, second floor. He climbed the narrow, winding staircase, found his classroom, and saw that he was one of the first to arrive. It never hurt to make a good first impression. Although he liked poetry, appreciated it and all its complications, he never liked to join in class discussions. Speaking made him nervous, so he chose a seat in the back corner where he thought he'd be easily looked over.

All of his classes so far had consisted of reviewing the syllabus rather than diving straight into the actual material, but Zayn had already gone out and purchased the textbook. He couldn't help but think about when he was younger, and his weekends spent in Harry's room. Amidst the comics and videogames, there was the rare sighting of poetry books. Harry was a normal kid, immature, lived on a diet of sweets, and stayed up late watching brain-melting television shows. But Zayn remembered the one thing that transcended his age, the part of Harry that he couldn't understand, but admired at the same time. Harry liked poetry. He _knew_ poetry. He could read it, and dissect it. 

Zayn conveyed his thoughts through colors, Harry did it with words. That's how it was, and that's how they managed to mold perfectly with each other. Well, almost perfectly. 

He pulled out his notebook, opened to a blank page, and began to doodle. Though his "doodles" were more intricate than the average out-of-boredom notebook art. He concentrated on the shading of his upper left corner of the paper masterpiece, when he saw more students walk in through the corner of his eye. He glanced up. And he shouldn't have. There was Harry looking back at him.

Zayn never got used to the strange sensations that ran through his body whenever he saw Harry, and none of them were really pleasant. But not wanting to be awkward, he just gave a quick nod in acknowledgement, and Harry did the same.

On opposite sides of the room again. How reminiscent this was of high school. Zayn couldn't help but think that his life was just one big joke, and some higher power was having a laugh over it.

The professor walked in, not wasting a beat and going right into what the class was about. Zayn could barely pay attention as he felt a heaviness to the right of him, where Harry was sitting. Far off, but still there. His eyes constantly glanced up to the clock right above the whiteboard, willing it to go faster, but it never did. In fact, it seemed to not have moved at all, which wasn't surprising. Classrooms always had this weird sorcery going on where time would be at a stand still, or move painfully slow. One minute would be an hour. That was the evil of classrooms sometimes.

All Zayn could do was throw himself into his notebook art. It was therapy for him, and it helped calm his nerves, up until they were finally dismissed. He grabbed his bookbag, slung it over his shoulder, and rushed out of the classroom. But as he was going down the stairs, he heard his name being called out.

"Zayn!" 

He didn't stop or turn around. He pushed the doors of the building, tackling more stairs, much to his displeasure. 

"Zayn, wait!"

Zayn stopped in his tracks and sighed heavily before turning around. Harry was a little out of breath, his cheeks were a tad rosy, and his curls out of place. Zayn used to find it easy to forgive Harry because he always seemed so damn apologetic, but he learned through the years. He developed a thicker skin and wouldn't give into Harry's wide-eyed look.

"You've got paint on your fingers again," Harry's eyes lowered to Zayn's hands before looking up at his face. "I mean, I'm not surprised or anything. I'm glad you're continuing that."

Zayn nodded. "Yeah."

"You're an art major, right?"

"Yeah."

Harry smiled weakly, clutching at the strap of his backpack. "I always thought you would be. Your paintings are the best. Remember that sketch you did of me when we were eleven? My mum reckons you'll be famous one day, so she still insists that we frame it."

Zayn wasn't sure why Harry was taking a trip down memory lane, but the attempt at casual conversation was a bit painful, and frankly, insulting, especially after everything the boy had put him through. "I gotta go. I want to finish up something in the media building."

"Don't go," Harry almost pleaded. He paused right there, as if expecting Zayn to run off, and he seemed to be at a loss of what to say when he didn't. Zayn raised his eyebrows at the other boy, wondering what the hell he could possibly want. So Harry took a deep breath and continued, "I know what happened back home was stupid. Stupid on my part, right? And I know you don't like me much for it. But this is college, Zayn. And you're just one room down from mine. We're practically living together. And now we've got the same class. Can't we try to get along?"

Zayn chuckled dryly, "So we're going to get along out of convenience for you?"

"For the both of us," Harry replied. "And you make it sound so bad, like I'm trying to be selfish."

"Isn't that in your nature though? To be selfish. Sorry, but I don't know you any other way. You sort of pounded it into my brain."

Harry sniffed and rubbed the back of his head, trying to find words. "I was selfish, okay? I chose unimportant things over you. Don't you think I felt bad?"

"Yeah, I could tell you were fucking miserable," Zayn snapped.

"I missed you, Zayn," Harry said quickly, his eyes pained. He saw Zayn had opened his mouth to speak, but he continued on before the other boy would have a chance. "There were many times when I just wanted to go up to you and tell you I was sorry, and what a complete prat I was. I wanted things to go back to normal. I missed weekends at your place, or at mine. I miss staying up talking to you, then sleeping past noon. I miss sneaking up to that rooftop. I miss everything. I had always wanted to say all of that to you." 

Harry stopped talking, and he watched Zayn's face, for maybe a flicker of something other than contempt for him. Zayn finally spoke, his voice low, saddened, cracking slightly.

"But you didn't." 

Harry's entire being seemed to visibly fall, and his face crumpled up a little, but Zayn silently swore to himself that he wouldn't cave in anymore. The worst part was that he wanted to. The smallest part of him wanted to tell Harry that he felt the same, and he missed him just as much. Zayn wanted to tell him that their friendship had been the most important thing to him, and as a child, he cherished it above everything else. But he couldn't say it. Because there was that bigger part of him that was well aware of all the broken promises, and the fact that their faded friendship had damaged him in high school, and continued to damage him now. 

"Zayn..." Harry murmured, quietly begging. "Don't you miss me?"

Zayn knew the answer to that, but he wasn't about to give it. Maybe even Harry knew the answer to that. And although Harry would probably not be able to grasp the amount of hurt Zayn felt during those high school years, he could certainly make him feel some of it at this moment. 

"No," he replied casually, his voice lacking the weakness and pain of his previous answers. "I don't. See ya, Harry." He flashed him a quick smile, and turned around, ignoring the obvious hurt on Harry's face, and most of all, ignoring the stab in his own chest.


	4. 4

Liam hurled a sock at Zayn's head, "You daft prick!"

Zayn swatted the sock away, and glared at his roommate, "What did I do?"

"Everything! Harry apologized to you, and you go on and become the number one prat of the decade. You don't just take the cake, you take the whole bakery."

Zayn just groaned, flopped back on his bed, and pulled the blanket over himself. Maybe he shouldn't have told Liam absolutely everything that had gone right after class, but if he hadn't told someone, he would've burst. It had been a week since the incident, and he and Harry had been avoiding each other like their lives depended on it. Zayn more than Harry, of course.

"Why though?" Zayn kicked the blankets off, and sat up. "Why's it make me a bad person, but he's poor little victim boy? I told you what he did to me in high school."

"Yeah, but that was in high school. High school grudges are the absolute worst, and I think it's about time you let go of it. Remember, Zayn. That albatross will do no good."

"Well, I like the bloody albatross," Zayn mumbled.

Liam sighed, shook his head, then adjusted his position so that he was completely facing Zayn. "How old did you say you two were when you broke up?"

"Ease up on the love story. And we were thirteen."

"Right. Thirteen. A shit year for everyone. And not to get all young adult novel on you, but that's when everyone tries to discover themselves, and they try to fit in as best as they can. I know Harry. I mean, I don't _know_ him, but I know people _like_ him. They're so young, and they try so hard to find themselves, that they tend to lose track of what's really important," Liam shrugged. "One mistake doesn't define a person."

Zayn stared at him, "What are you, like a Wise Man of the Forest?"

Liam chuckled. "Nope. Just a business major."

\---

The American Poetry course seemed to be a bit more surprising than the typical English class. Professor Warner immediately shooed them out of the classroom, then herded them into a bus.

"Today," Warner announced. "We go to the library! Our university library is all well and good, but you've all been there. There is a beauty in getting lost in a maze of books, and I want you all to experience that for at least an hour. Appreciate the new scenery, and most of all, appreciate the pages."

Zayn took a seat, not realizing he had sat directly behind Harry. He slumped over and let out a quiet sigh as the bus started up. Harry hadn't even acknowledged him, and why would he? Zayn had told him off in a way that would make anyone want to distance themselves. And although he wasn't exactly having the friendliest of feelings towards the boy, he couldn't help but just watch Harry, and notice how furrowed his brows were, and how clenched his jaw was as he stared out the window, probably wanting to be anywhere else but here. Zayn just leaned forward, placed his arms on the back of Harry's seat, and rested his chin against the top of his hand, as he continued to watch him.

He missed Harry.

He missed him in every way a human being could miss another. And he wasn't sure if it was just Liam's words nudging at him, or if it was completely on his own. Couldn't it be both? The only problem was that it wasn't easy forgiving Harry, and Zayn was stubborn. But he missed him, and having him so close only made it worse. Zayn's eyes fixed on the back of Harry's head, and on the little locks of hair that curled at his neck. He wanted to reach out and touch them. He wanted to tell Harry that he was ready to try being his friend again, even if it was only part of the truth. Zayn wasn't exactly _ready_ , but he did want to try.

This was all Liam's fault.

The bus came to a stop, and the class stood up and shuffled out. Zayn was careful not to get too close to Harry, but the students in the back of the line were eager to get out, and they began to push, causing Zayn to bump into Harry a little. He mumbled a quick apology, but was met with nothing in return. He expected that. But being so close to Harry, he felt like he had no control over the random thoughts that ran through his brain. One of them being Harry's scent. It hadn't changed. He still smelled like clean laundry, and the scent of it hit Zayn so hard with nostalgia, that when Harry took a few steps forward, taking his smell with him, Zayn actually felt slight disappointment. 

_You're being stupid_ , he told himself as he stepped out of the bus. 

The library was large. Much bigger than the one back at school, and much older too. But there was much care in the little details of the building, as he could tell by the intricacy of the designs. It was beautiful on the outside, but the inside was breathtaking. Zayn glanced over to Harry whose lips had parted, and his eyes wide with wonder. He smiled to himself, knowing that this was candy land to the other boy.

Zayn wasn't sure where to start. There were three levels, and an hour wasn't enough time to properly go through everything. He sought out the non-fiction section, and pulled out a book about Claude Monet, one of his favorite painters. He admired how up close, a Monet painting seemed chaotic, consisting of blobs of paint, but from afar, it was a masterpiece. Zayn had yet to figure out Monet's process, but one day, he would. 

Right about this time, he wondered where Harry could've wandered off to. He slipped the book back on the shelf and began to wander the large ground level of the library. He finally spotted Harry sitting down between the aisles, immersed in whatever he was reading. Zayn slowly made his way over, pulled a random book, and began flipping through the pages like he was interested, when in fact, he was just there to somehow get close to Harry. He heard Liam's nagging voice in his mind, so he decided to just dive right into it without thinking.

"What are you reading?" he asked.

Harry looked up, his expression was one of shock and bewilderment. His lips formed a little "O" and he glanced behind him, just in case Zayn had been talking to someone else and not him. But they were the only two in that area.

"Erm..." Harry lost his words for a moment, then stared down at the book. "Byron. He was a bit of a cheeky fellow, but I like him." He chewed on his bottom lip, and glanced up at Zayn, giving him a bit of an incredulous look, maybe wondering what he could possibly want. 

Zayn took a deep breath, and turned to look at the other books, running his fingers over the old and worn down spines. "I know him. I read that one poem in one of your books. It was a bit cheesy--"

"She walks in beauty, like the night," Harry interrupted him, speaking low. "Of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that's best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and in her eyes."

Zayn blinked and nodded. "Yeah, that's the one."

Harry looked back at the pages in front of him as if debating whether to say more or just shut up. He chose the former. "You've always reminded me of a Byronic hero," he raised his eyes, meeting Zayn's hesitantly. "Brilliant, but kind of brooding. Kind of like a... 'Fuck the system, I'm a genius, and gorgeous, and mysterious' type of thing."

Zayn smirked a little, "You think I'm gorgeous?"

A small smile came on Harry's face, and he rolled his eyes, "That's up for debate." He watched Zayn, looking like he was still wary of him, and wondering if there were any motives. He shut the book slowly, but remained seated. "Why are you talking to me?" Harry's tone wasn't harsh. It was quiet and curious.

This was a question that Zayn expected, and he didn't have a well-thought out answer for it. Instead he just shrugged. "I don't know. Something about an albatross." 

Harry actually laughed at this. "You took something from Coleridge's poem, _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_."

"Yeah, I dunno. My roommate's a bit wacky, and started going on about birds around my neck, so--"

"The albatross around someone's neck is a metaphor for a carried burden."

Zayn perked an eyebrow and nodded slowly, sometimes not quite understanding what Harry was going on about when it came to literature. "Right. Apparently, I've got one, and I should let go because it's pointless."

Harry frowned, lowering his eyes to the floor, "It's not _pointless_. It's my fault, not yours."

Zayn wasn't sure how to reply. He'd usually agree harshly, but that wasn't the point to this conversation. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Liam was right. The torture he was putting himself through wasn't worth it, and sometimes he did feel like he wanted to be the better person and give in. But he was tongue-tied, and his brain was a jumble of thoughts with no chance of unscrambling them. He could only try. "I was thinking that an hour wasn't enough to go through this whole library."

An audible sigh of relief escaped Harry's lips, and he smiled, very faintly. "You're right," his voice trembled a little with the last word. Zayn didn't reply this time. Instead, he pulled out another book, settled down next to Harry, and began to read. 

They spent the remainder of the hour, sitting side by side, getting lost in poetry and in each other's company.


	5. 5

Zayn was on one side of his bed, drawing in his large sketchbook, while Harry was propped up against the pillows on the other side, reading for one of his English classes. Meanwhile, Liam and Niall were on the floor, with a thick math textbook, and crumpled up papers strewn all around.

"No, Niall, you've got to find x and y by doing this. Watch..." Liam scribbled quickly in his notebook, then pushed it towards Niall who let out a loud groan of defeat.

"That looks like fucking hieroglyphics to me," Niall pushed the notebook away in disgust, then scooted over to Liam's food stash. "Can we have a snack break?"

"It's been ten minutes."

Niall had already torn open his second granola bar, and took a big bite of it. "Twas a grueling ten minutes," he said with his mouth full. Liam had agreed to tutor Niall in college algebra, but Niall proved to be a very difficult student since he'd get frustrated and a bit distracted. But then again, Liam proved to be a good tutor as Niall managed a B in his last quiz. It was a good match, but Liam had quite a challenge ahead of him with this new student of his. 

Harry ignored the math session on the floor, and crawled across the bed to sit by Zayn's side. "What're you drawing?"

If it were any other person, Zayn would usually hug his sketchbook to his chest in fear of criticism, but Harry had grown up watching Zayn draw and experiment, so there was nothing to hide. "The library building. I liked the designs. I kind of want to go back there just to sketch certain angles of it."

Harry continued to watch as Zayn's pencil flew over the paper. It was just like before, like nothing had changed. Zayn felt Harry's cheek rest against his shoulder, so he stopped drawing and tried to look down at him.

"You do know you're going to fall asleep like that, right?"

Harry kept his cheek against Zayn's shoulder, but tilted his head up a little to look at him. "How would you know?"

"I'm counting on some things not changing," Zayn replied before going back to his drawing. When they were younger, Harry had always been fascinated with watching Zayn draw, so he'd curl up against his side, and would eventually doze off as he watched. 

A second later, Louis, Harry and Niall's third roommate, burst into the room. "Lads!" he shouted, as he held up three small envelopes. Harry and Niall immediately leapt up to their feet and moved in on him, snatching the envelopes with their names on it. Zayn threw a confused glance at Liam who just shrugged at him in return.

Harry tore open the envelope, and looked at the paper inside. "Holy shit," he whispered. His smile grew wide, as he looked at his two roommates, and repeated. "Holy shit."

Zayn finally spoke up, "Would someone care to inform me what's going on?"

Harry turned to him, still grinning. "It's a pre-rush thing the Alphas do. If they've got their eye on you, they send a letter." He held up the paper which had a single "A" right in the middle of it.

"It means you're practically guaranteed a bid," Louis chimed in, still unable to tear his eyes away from the note. "Alright, this good mood has made me generous. No cafeteria food for us today, boys. We're eatin' good tonight! My treat. Except don't be making a fuss about it or else everyone on the floor will want to tag along. Just the five of us, alright?" He let out a loud whoop, before running out the door with Niall and Liam following suit.

Zayn was surprised that he was included in the invitation to dinner, but he wouldn't turn it down, especially since it meant hanging out with Harry. "Congratulations," he smiled, and motioned to the letter. "Bet a lot of guys would kill to be an Alpha."

"But not you?" Harry safely tucked the letter into his back pocket.

"Nah," Zayn shook his head. "Not really my thing."

Harry just smiled, took a hold of Zayn's wrist, and tugged, "Come on. Let's go take advantage of Louis' generosity."

\---

Within the next few days, Harry had been scarce. Sometimes he or his roommates would pop in to say hi, but they'd rush off after several minutes. Zayn tried to understand. He was unsure how fraternities worked, or what this rush process even was, but all he knew was that it took up most of Harry's time. 

"It's mostly parties," Liam said. "Careful selection disguised as parties. Don't worry, you'll catch on. Even non-Greeks eventually get to know all these little processes. This school is very much influenced by fraternities and sororities." 

"I don't get it," Zayn put down his pencil and looked up. "I mean, I guess I understand the appeal, but if you take a step back, isn't it a bit... dumb? They're sort of just paying for friends."

Liam snorted, "You need a filter, Zayn, if you're going to want to continue bashing Greek life. First of all, it's not paying for friends. Ask anyone here who's been around at least a year. It's a bit more than that."

Zayn just chewed on his bottom lip, and focused back on his sketches. Truth was, he worried. He worried for his just-bandaged friendship with Harry, and he wasn't sure if Harry would just fall back into his old ways, and desert him for something cooler or better. If Harry did it before, he could surely do it again. What's one lost friend to thirty or forty new ones? He'd gain more than he'd lose, and Zayn was afraid that Harry would come to that realization. 

The next day was no different. Zayn went to all his classes with a heavy feeling in his gut, and he hated that he felt this way. He should be stronger than this, and _this_ was exactly what got him in the previous mess with Harry in the first place. Because he wasn't strong enough to deal. So all he had to do was mentally prep himself for the inevitable, which was Harry leaving. The second his last class was dismissed, he headed straight for the top floor of the media building.

He laid the canvas on the table, and began smothering it in darker blues and deep purples. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd do with it yet, but he wouldn't start thinking about it until the background was the way he wanted it. Zayn had been so engrossed in his work, that he didn't notice there was someone standing five feet away from him.

"Z?" came Harry's voice, quiet and tentative.

Zayn almost let go of his brush, and he turned to look at him. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

Harry dropped his backpack on the floor, and walked a little closer to him. "I was looking for you, and Liam said you might be up here." He grabbed a stool, pulled it to Zayn's side, and sat down. "Do you know what you're gonna paint yet?"

Zayn looked at the medley of blue and purple, "Still working on it."

Harry just nodded before falling quiet for a moment, so he could watch Zayn work. The silence went on for about five minutes or so, then Harry decided to speak up softly. "I'm not going anywhere." 

Zayn continued on with his painting, trying to keep his tone casual. "What are you talking about?"

Harry reached out, gently taking a hold of Zayn's elbow, wanting his full attention. "I mean to say that I'm not going to stop being your friend just 'cause I'm trying to be an Alpha. I'm trying to tell you that I'm not going to make the same mistake."

Silence fell again. Zayn wasn't sure how to reply, and he knew he could go one of two ways. He didn't trust Harry completely, but he _wanted_ to. He wanted to believe that he had changed, but how successfully can people really change? Most couldn't, and it was just a human thing. 

"Zayn," Harry said with a soft urgency. He placed a hand on Zayn's cheek, gently turning his head so their eyes would meet. "I just got you back. And I'm not too keen on the idea of letting you go." His palm slid down, then pressed against the side of Zayn's neck. 

Goosebumps erupted on Zayn's skin, which was a reaction that came as total surprise. Harry's face was so close to his own, and he could almost count the light freckles that dusted his nose. He didn't understand the strange heaviness at the base of his skull, or why his throat constricted a little. He parted his lips, took a quick intake of breath, then looked down, as he was unable to look into Harry's eyes anymore. 

"Can't you trust me?" Harry sounded a little desperate now, and the pad of his thumb gently swept against Zayn's skin.

All Zayn could do was shrug, and reply, "I'm trying."

Harry sighed and lowered his hand to the boy's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "I guess that's all I could ask for." He let his hand linger on Zayn's shoulder for a while longer, before finally pulling back. "Do you mind if I read here?"

Zayn managed a small smile, as he picked up his brush again. "Go ahead."

Then came more silence, but a comfortable one. Zayn immersed in thoughts of colors and Harry. Harry immersed in thoughts of poetry and Zayn.


	6. 6

The only time Zayn saw Harry this week was at their American Poetry class, and even then, Harry wasn't mentally one hundred percent present. He dozed off often, and Zayn had to nudge him awake so he wouldn't get in trouble. He had to admit, Harry looked terrible. At least as terrible as he was capable of looking. There were dark circles around his eyes, he was pale, and his wild hair was covered by a grey beanie. When class was dismissed, Harry was slow to get up, and even had a bit of difficulty hoisting his backpack over his shoulder.

"Harry," Zayn took his friend's arm, in an attempt to steady him as he walked. "What the hell is going on?"

A sleepy smile came on Harry's lips, and he said in a tired voice, "Oh, it's great, Z. Niall, Lou, and I finished rushing, and we got bids."

Zayn just stared at him blankly, since this was fraternity babble again, and he had absolutely no idea what Harry was talking about. "Got what?"

"Bids," Harry repeated, as they walked down the stairs. "If you get bids from an organization, then you go through a pledging process before you can be initiated. I'm not quite in yet." Then he added softly, "Almost."

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, Zayn turned to look at him. "No offense, but you look horrible."

Harry rubbed his eyes and yawned widely, "Erm.. yeah. I haven't been getting much sleep this week. Pledging's not easy, and... I don't think I'm supposed to talk about it."

Zayn's brows drew together. "Is it that hazing shit?"

"Don't call it that," Harry snapped at him. He then bit his bottom lip, and looked apologetic. "Sorry, Z." He took the boy's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Now don't give me that look. It's nothing bad." His cell phone went off in his pocket, and he pulled it out, opened the message, then frowned at it. "I've got to go."

"You can't grab lunch with me?"

Harry shook his head. "I can't. I've gotta run now. See you later, yeah?" He gave him a small smile, then hurried off.

\---

"You told me the Alphas haze. Is it bad?" Zayn burst into the room, shut the door behind him, then locked it.

Liam looked up from his laptop. "Well, hello to you too, roomie."

"Is it bad?" Zayn repeated. "You told me your roommate from last year went through it."

Liam hesitated a little before giving a small hesitant nod. "He always came back to the room late. Sometimes he didn't come back until the next day. He never talked about what he did, which turned into him not talking much at all. Sometimes there'd be bruises." He shrugged. "I don't know anything about the details, Zayn, so I can't give you much." A frown came on his face. "Niall hasn't dropped by for tutoring lately."

Zayn flopped back on his bed, grabbed a pillow, and hugged it to his chest. "To be honest, I feel like I'm going to lose Harry all over again. I'm going to lose him to some brainless group of idiots who have a warped idea of brotherhood."

"You need to ease up on him, especially now," Liam said as he went back to tapping away on his keyboard. "Don't give him crap for not making time for you, if that's what you're planning on doing."

"That's not what I--"

"Zayn, let's both be real here."

"Liam, I'm not some clingy--"

"Can I speak?"

"But I'm not--"

"Have you quite finished?" Liam looked over at him, scowling a little, and when Zayn didn't reply, he continued. "Anyway, as I was saying, you can't give him hell on top of the current hell he's already going through. You might not understand it or agree with it, but it doesn't make you right, and it doesn't make you smarter or better."

Zayn perked an eyebrow. "Why are you always on their side? You're not even in the frat. I mean, fraternity." 

Liam hesitated a moment, stared at his laptop screen, then turned to look at Zayn. "I'm a legacy."

"What's a--"

"My dad was an Alpha. Or _is_ one. I guess the title never really wears off, so yes, my dad is an Alpha. At this school, actually."

Zayn's eyes widened a little. "Then why didn't you join? You would've gotten in no problem."

Liam shrugged. "It wasn't for me. But it doesn't mean I make assumptions based on what I see in movies, or whatever is portrayed in media. My dad's got a great job, brought me and my sisters up right, and sent us off to school, so I'd say that's a far cry from a brainless idiot, don't you think?"

Zayn chewed on his bottom lip and didn't say anything for a moment. He picked at a loose thread from his pillowcase, then looked over to Liam, "I'm sorry," he finally spoke up. "Sometimes I just say things out of anger without really thinking about it. And I wasn't even really angry this time. Just scared."

The expression on Liam's face softened. "Don't apologize. Sorry I snapped at you. It's not really your fault that you're new to all this." He shut his laptop, walked over to his bed right across from Zayn's, and plopped down on it. "He might get weird during all this. Harry, I mean. I'm expecting Louis and Niall to be a bit off too. But once it's over, they all go back to normal. Somewhat." Liam offered a small smile. "Relax, Zayn." 

Zayn managed a small smile right back. "Trying."

\---

Friday had passed without so much as a glimpse of Harry. Zayn tried to take Liam's words into consideration, and attempt not to worry so much, or mentally cling. Was he really too clingy? Frowning to himself, he just shook away the thought, and went about his day. 

It was Saturday afternoon, and he finally heard voices out in the hallway belonging to Louis, Niall, and... there it was. Harry's. He almost expected the three of them to stop by, but all he got was the jingling of keys, the sound of the door to their room opening, then shutting, and locking. Zayn sighed, trying to keep the feelings of hurt at bay. He was trying not to be selfish. But as long as he didn't act on his feelings, could he really be selfish? It was a little ridiculous how much he wanted to see Harry, just to know that he was okay. The urge to see him, and to talk to him grew and grew with each passing minute, and to be honest, it disturbed him. 

Hours passed, and finally, nighttime fell. Liam had gone home for the weekend, leaving Zayn alone for a couple of days. It was lonely, but Zayn accepted that he wouldn't be having company anytime soon. Not Harry's company. So he settled down into bed, shut his eyes, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

\---

Zayn woke with a start as something stirred next to him. It was still dark, so he couldn't have been asleep that long. He felt something warm by his side, and he began to panic, but he reeled himself in a bit when the scent of clean laundry came over him.

"Harry?" he murmured sleepily. 

"Sorry," came Harry's voice. "Didn't mean to wake you."

Zayn's eyes squinted in the dark and he managed to make out Harry's face inches away from his. "What are you doing here?"

Harry pulled the blanket over himself and snuggled into the pillow. "Felt like I hadn't seen you in days," he said quietly. "Sorry. Is this, like, too weird?"

"No," Zayn's hand sought out Harry's arm, and he gave it a light squeeze. "Stay." He and Harry hadn't shared a bed since they were younger, when they'd have sleepovers almost every weekend. But this felt different. At least to Zayn, it was different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to right now. "You're alright, yeah?"

There was a slight hesitation on Harry's end. ".. Yeah. I mean, it's a bit hard now, and I'm tired a lot. But I think it'll be worth it."

Zayn's fingers brushed lightly against Harry's skin, and he could feel goosebumps form in the wake of his touch. Maybe Harry was cold, so he tightened the blankets around them both. "I just want you to be okay."

"I am okay. Are you?"

Zayn felt Harry's warm breath on his face due to their close proximity, and he was quite sure that regular boys didn't do this. At least not at this age. And as much as he wanted to question it, he continued to force it in the back of his mind. _Not now_ , he thought to himself. _Not when everything is uncertain._ He cleared his throat a little, "Yeah, I'm okay."

Harry let out a quiet sigh, and scooted in a little. Zayn felt the other boy's hand settle on his waist. "I'm still not going anywhere."

Zayn smiled in the darkness, and nearly stopped breathing when Harry's fingers found the bit of exposed skin between the waistband of his sweats and the hem of his shirt. He licked his bottom lip, whispering back, "I'm not going anywhere either."


	7. 7

Zayn felt himself slowly slip back into consciousness. It was cold and he was tired, and all he wanted to do was go back to back to sleep, so he pulled the blanket over his head. 

"Oh no, you don't," Harry pulled the blanket down.

Zayn hissed at how cold it was, grabbed the blanket, and pulled it over himself again. "What time is it?"

Harry grabbed his phone, squinted at the screen, then placed it back. "Past noon, Z. We slept past noon." He settled back into bed, scooting into Zayn's warmth, then slung an arm around his waist, holding him loosely. But after a moment, he tightened his hold a little and nuzzled into the crook of the other boy's neck.

Well, this was strange. Sort of. Zayn opened one eye, and looked at Harry, wondering what the hell was going on. Sure, they used to be like this as kids, using each other as a teddy bear of sorts, but usually most boys at their current age had a wide range of personal space when it came to other guys. And the thing that was stranger was that Zayn didn't seem to mind, not in the least bit. He thought about his strange obsession with wanting to see Harry all week, and how it made him feel when he couldn't. It hurt him, almost worse than the little ache he carried with him all throughout high school. He figured it was because he just got Harry back, and the thought of losing him wasn't something he could go through again.

"You're quiet," Harry murmured against the skin of Zayn's neck.

"I just woke up, and it's the crack of dawn. Don't feel like talking much," Zayn replied. 

Harry snorted. "It's the crack of... noon."

"Say crack again."

"Crack."

They burst into muffled laughter, unsure of how they just jumped right into movie quotes minutes after waking. Zayn draped an arm over his eyes, unwilling to move from bed, especially since it was a Sunday, and he'd have to actually be productive tomorrow. He wanted to take advantage of a lazy day. "Are you gonna be busy later?"

Harry pulled his face back from Zayn's neck, and rolled over to lay on his back. "No. We've got this Sunday off. But every Sunday after that, we've got meetings."

"Let me guess. They're super secret? With like, robes and chanting, or something?"

"Don't be an arse," Harry gave Zayn's side a little pinch, but he ended up smiling. "And let's not talk about any of that right now, alright? I'm content, and haven't had a good sleep like that in ages."

"My bed's got magical qualities. Maybe that's why." Zayn meant that to be a joke, but realized how flirty that sounded, and he wasn't trying to go down that direction at all. Was he? 

"Could be your bed. Or it could be you with the magical qualities," Harry propped himself up with his elbow, and looked down at Zayn. "Do you find it a bit weird that we could jump right back into it? I mean, with this. Us. You kind of noticed how we just dove back in like normal, right?"

Zayn's eyes met Harry's, but only briefly. Yeah, he had been thinking that. It had been one of the things at the forefront of his mind. Or at least it was a _version_ of that thought. "I have, yeah."

Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek and nodded. "I guess I was always meant to come back, you know? Not to bring up the past again or anything. You probably still hate me for it."

Zayn sighed, "I didn't _hate_ you, Harry. Just disappointed, I suppose. We said a bunch of crap to each other that little kids usually say, with the 'promises' and the 'forevers' and all that. And maybe I just really took it to heart, way more than you did, and way more than I should."

There was a slight hurt in Harry's eyes, as he sat up all the way. "I took it to heart too, okay? And I believed the promises and the forevers, but I know I fucked up for a while, and I really am sorry. I was a dumb kid, then we grew up, and I didn't know how to fix my own mess."

Zayn sat up too. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, rubbing it gently, and after a while, Harry leaned in against him. "As long as you don't ditch me again, we can forget it happened."

Harry straightened up again, looked at him, and gave a small smile. "Deal."

They eventually got out of bed, pulling on whatever they could find. Harry opted for one of Zayn's shirts. They decided that as much as they'd like a lazy day, perhaps they needed to do some laundry, so they shoved their dirty clothes into Harry's brown duffle bag, and took off to the laundry room just outside their building. 

It all felt easy and natural for Zayn to be with Harry like this, doing simple things like their laundry, while laughing over Harry's Doctor Who boxers.

"They make Doctor Who undergarments?" Zayn held it up and inspected it, while Harry tried to make a grab for his underwear. "The TARDIS is on there and everything." 

"You had Pokemon pajamas! Don't think I've forgotten!" Harry successfully grabbed it from Zayn's clutch, and tossed it in the washing machine.

After doing laundry, they decided to pick up some lunch at a little hole in the wall sandwich place to bring back to their room. Harry dropped off two sandwiches in his room for his two still snoozing roommates, before joining Zayn on his bed. They unwrapped their sandwiches, and ate like they had been starved for weeks.

Zayn slowed down his chewing, and spoke up, "Hey, remember that one time you had Doctor Who underwear."

"I'm going to throw this entire sandwich at you, Malik. For your information, it's a bloody good show, and you'd probably be bawling your eyes out if you gave it a shot."

"After bawling your eyes out, did you buy your boxers?" A sliced tomato hit Zayn right on the forehead, and he gasped, unable to dodge it. "Don't start a food fight on my bed! Think of the ants--"

"Don't make fun of my underwear!"

"-- crawling into your Doctor Who underwear."

Harry let out a huff. "They can only crawl in my underwear if I spend another night in your bed, so through your silly little insults, you've actually just invited me to sleep over again."

Zayn suddenly stopped, and raised both eyebrows. "Oh. Well, um... fancy that."

"I accept. Just in case you were wondering," Harry smiled and took another big bite of his sandwich.

The day wore on, and as it got darker, they brought Zayn's laptop over to the bed and watched a movie. Zayn barely paid attention to the film, and instead, he became extremely aware of how close Harry was, and how he was pressed up against his side, with his chin resting on Zayn's shoulder. There was something oddly intimate about being so close to someone while watching a movie.

When the credits rolled, Zayn heard a soft snore. He chuckled a little because he had expected this. He gently pulled back from Harry, slowly lowering the other boy back against the pillow. Zayn eased off the bed, quickly put the laptop away, then crawled back in next to the sleeping boy. He didn't want to wake him, since this would probably be one of the only times he'd be getting any sleep. Zayn pulled the blanket over the both of them, and he fixed his gaze on Harry's profile, his lips slightly parted, and his eyes moving beneath his lids. He was dreaming, and Zayn wondered about what.

It was a good day. Better than he expected. Zayn felt himself lower his guard a bit, and he came to the conclusion that he wanted to finally trust Harry. He was ready to take that step, and move forward with his life. For his sake, and for Harry's sake.

Zayn moved in, slowly, and hesitantly, pressing a featherlight kiss to Harry's cheek. 

"G'night, Harry."


	8. 8

The sunlight streaming in through the window woke him. For the first time in what seemed like a while, Harry woke up without feeling like he'd only gotten ten minutes of sleep. The past two nights in Zayn's bed helped his body recover. He sat up slowly, careful not to wake Zayn, but he remained in bed for a few more minutes just to watch the other boy sleep. Harry then shook out of his trance, since he found it incredibly creepy that he was watching someone while they were sleeping. This wasn't Twilight. 

He was finally able to tear himself away from the warmth of Zayn's bed, so he could go back to his own room to get ready for class, and whatever else today had in store for him. He sort of dreaded what his pledge leader had planned for the new pledges today, and he wasn't in the mood at all to be in constant discomfort or humiliated. The only consolation was that Niall and Louis were in it with him, and the rest of his pledge class (there were eleven of them) seemed to consist of pretty decent boys. But there was something off about Victor, their pledge leader, and how he found amusement in rough hazing. Hazing within Alpha Delta Epsilon was supposed to be kept secret, but it was a small school, and nothing was kept secret for too long, though everyone seemed to turn a blind eye. Details were always a mystery though, especially when it came to Victor's version of hazing. Even the Alpha's president wasn't privy to the "events" that took place with the pledges. No, it was just Victor and his hand-picked cronies, who happened to be just as vicious. 

"I'm not feeling it today, boys," Louis grumbled as he pulled on a shirt. Niall on the other hand, was just silent, as he sat on his bed and tapped away on his cell phone.

Harry made sure he had all his books for class, then zipped up his backpack. "The both of you got that text right? 11 pm tonight in front of the media building?"

"Yep," came Louis' short answer, and Niall just grunted in reply. 

Harry felt that change happening to the three of them, which was something they were warned about at the beginning of pledging. _You will change_ , they had said. _And you won't come back from it._

Obviously, being a part of this organization upped the status of any boy at Highlands, and there was this wonderful sense of _belonging_ which Harry had always craved since he was young. The thing was, the Alphas as a whole weren't bad guys. In fact, they were the best kind of guys Harry had ever encountered. Active on campus, friendly, open-minded, and encouraging. But every group always had a bad apple... or a few. He glared to himself at the thought of Victor and his friends.

"What do you think it'll be like today?" Niall finally spoke up. "Standing half-naked in the middle of nowhere to see who lasts in the cold the longest? Streaking in a public place, maybe? Or wait, how about a repeat of what we did last Tuesday? What was it? Drink ourselves into oblivion, then that bit with the blindfolds--"

"Niall," Louis snapped a little, interrupting him. "Shut it. The door's open a bit, and someone might hear." 

Harry just sighed, and slung his backpack over his shoulder. "I'm off to class. S'later." He walked out and shut the door behind him just in case the both of them felt the need to voice more complaints. He stopped at Zayn's door, saw it was latched, then knocked before pushing it open a little. "Z?" Harry's eyes widened at the sight of a freshly-showered Zayn, clad in only jeans. Not that he'd never seen this before, but it was slightly different this time. He didn't want to think about _that_ right now.

Zayn looked over his shoulder and smiled, "Hey, Harry." Then he grabbed a shirt and tugged it on. "What class have you got now?"

"Speech," Harry made a face. "Hate public speaking."

Zayn walked to him, and leaned against the doorframe. "I'm guessing you'll be busy later."

Harry wrinkled his nose a little, then nodded. "They keep us pretty busy. Gotta weed out the weak ones and all." He wasn't sure if he was allowed to say that, so he just cleared his throat and quickly tried to change the subject. "How many classes have you got today?"

"Just two," Zayn replied. Then he reached over to place a hand on Harry's arm. "You'll be fine, you know. They'd be crazy not to take you in."

"Yeah?" a small smile slid on Harry's lips. "I know fraternities aren't your thing, but will you dare to be seen in public with me if I get my letters?" he asked jokingly. 

A smile came across Zayn's face too, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, which Harry noticed. "I should be asking you that."

Harry took a step closer to him, "Hey," he said softly. "Stop that. You said you'd drop it, and I told you I wasn't going to be doing it again." Zayn's gaze immediately dropped, causing Harry to completely close the distance between them by slipping both arms around his friend's neck. "If I let you make fun of my underwear again, would that cheer you up?"

A chuckle escaped Zayn's lips. "Alright, alright. I'm okay. Go to class."

Harry leaned in, gently bumping their foreheads together. "See you later, Z."

"See you later, Harry."

 

\---

He dreaded 11 pm to the point where he'd much rather be in class than have to go through whatever Victor had in store for them. Harry, Louis, and Niall sat in their room in silence, save for the TV, which served as background noise so they wouldn't go crazy from the silence. 

The digital clock read 10:45, and the boys immediately got up. The media building wasn't far from the dorm at all, but they'd rather be early, than even a second late. All Harry hoped was that there would be no physical pain, since that was all he was dreading. No more freezing nights, forced drinking, or walking through the woods blindfolded and without shoes. He wasn't sure how much of it he could take, and the sad part was that he knew he had to endure it until the very end if he wanted in.

"Pledges!" Victor sauntered up to the group with his usual three tagging along behind him. The only downside of being in this fraternity, Harry thought, was that he'd have to call those four his 'brothers,' and that was the last thing that came to mind when he thought of them. "Tonight, I'll give you guys a break. It'll be fun! Ten minutes, and you'll all be back in your rooms."

The news thrilled Harry, and he exchanged looks with his pledge class, who all looked equally as happy.

"Now listen up! We've got paint and some brushes," Victor motioned to a box behind him. "I want you to take the paint, go up to the art room, and mark up all the work you see there. The art freaks have insulted a few of the Alphas, meaning they've insulted _all_ of us. Stand up for your soon-to-be brothers!"

Harry's heart dropped, and his insides turned to ice. He knew for a fact that Zayn had some unfinished work in the art room. He looked around at the other boys, who looked incredibly uncomfortable with this plan. He met Louis and Niall's eyes briefly, the both of them looking like they'd get sick. They were friends with Zayn too. Right now, Harry would've taken an hour of physical pain in a heartbeat rather than do this. But before he could register another thought, a brush was shoved in his hand, and they were all herded into the building.

"I can't do this," he whispered to Louis as they made their way to the top floor. Louis' jaw clenched, but he didn't answer. But Harry knew that he didn't want to do this either. Nobody did. 

When they got to the art room, the pledges hesitated. The paintings, finished and unfinished, were all there in the open. Harry spotted one of Zayn's in the back corner, and he immediately had it in his mind to save it.

"Well?" Victor stood in front of the group. "What are you waiting for, pledges? GO!"

They hesitated, then scattered. Harry could see that some of them trembled as they made light marks over the paintings. He even saw a few, Niall and Louis included, were painting on empty canvases just to look like they were doing something. But Harry had a mission. He made sure that Victor and his minions weren't looking before making his way to Zayn's painting. He removed it from the easel, then looked around for a place to hide it. 

"Pledge!"

_Oh god..._ Harry thought in a panic. _Please be talking to someone else... please be talking to someone else._

"You, there! Styles!"

Harry stopped breathing and shut his eyes. This couldn't be happening. He swallowed back, then slowly turned around to face Victor, who was making his way across the room towards him. 

"What have you got there?"

Harry clutched tightly on to the painting. "Nothing."

"It sure looks like something, Styles. There's also a problem. It looks clean and untainted. You were given specific instructions."

"I was just going to--"

"Were you now?" Victor sneered. "Alright, let's see you do it."

Harry could feel the heat rise up in his cheeks. Everyone had stopped painting, and all eyes were on him. But he saw some of the other pledges had taken the opportunity to hide a few of the unmarked paintings to lessen the damage. 

"I..." Harry began to say, then he cleared his throat. "Please not this one. It's my friend's, and he's worked hard on it. I'll mark up another one, but not this. Please?"

Victor didn't look too sympathizing or pleased. "Which is it, Styles? Your organization or your outsider friends? You can only choose one right now, and from the looks of it, you don't _really_ want to be an Alpha. It's a shame. You had a lot of potential."

Harry pressed his lips into a firm thin line, trying to keep them from trembling. "I still want it. But please, just not this one. Give me another painting."

"Nope," Victor shook his head. "It has to be _that_ one. Think of this as a test. You can choose to pass it, or you can choose to fail. It's up to you."

Harry looked down at the painting in his hands. He remembered Zayn working on this. It was the one with the shades of purple and blue. He had transformed it into a painting of a city in an evening setting, and it was beautiful. "Fine," Harry said firmly. "I choose him."

Silence swept the room, and all Victor could do was stare at him. But he wasn't one to be humiliated in front of the pledges, so he turned around to face them. "Defiance against his own brothers. What we look for in Alpha Delta Epsilon is loyalty, and clearly--" he looked at Harry again. "--you haven't demonstrated it. But maybe you need a bit of breaking in, just like any prize stallion." He glanced back. "Charlie, if you'd please restrain him."

Harry's eyes widened as one of Victor's friends made his way over, and took a hold of Harry's arms, while Victor pried the painting away.

"Wait, no! What are you--"

"Quiet, Styles!" Victor hissed. He dipped a paintbrush in white paint, then grabbed one of Harry's hands, forcing his fingers around it. "Now you'll ruin this painting whether you like it or not."

Harry could hear the shouts of his roommates, and he looked towards them, only to see that they were being restrained by two of Victor's larger cronies. Niall's face had turned red as he tried to struggle, and Louis successfully shoved himself away while exclaiming, "Don't fucking touch me!"

"You've riled them up! Does that make you happy?" Victor's brows drew together in a glare, and before Harry could reply, the older boy shoved his hand down, forcing it to press on the painting, making a long white mark against it.

"No!" Harry shouted, and he was able to squirm away, but the damage had already been done. He quickly blinked back tears as he stared down at Zayn's ruined painting, then he raised his eyes to meet Victor's. "You're a fucking asshole."

But before Victor could reply, Harry heard a familiar voice by the stairs. A voice belonging to someone who shouldn't be there. The last person he wanted to see.

"What's going on?" Zayn stepped into the art room, and looked around, his eyes widening at the ruined paintings. He saw the brushes in the hands of the pledges, and a disgusted look came across his face. His eyes then fixed on Harry, and he slowly took in the scene. Harry was holding a brush that had been dipped in white paint. And there was his own painting, completely damaged by the same paint on Harry's brush. 

Harry saw the realization in his eyes, and he took a quick step forward, "Zayn, I--"

But Victor interrupted. "Ah, so this must be Zayn's painting. Hello, Zayn. Seems like your friend, Harry, decided to completely redo it. You should be thanking him. It looks better that way."

Zayn just shook his head. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes wild and furious. Harry's heart broke right there, into a million pieces. _Don't go. I just got you back..._

"Please, Z, it's not what it looks like!"

The storm in Zayn's eyes subsided, and was replaced with blankness. A sort of tired resignation. Without another word, he turned around and slowly made his way down the stairs.


	9. 9

"Liam, I've got to see him," Harry begged, but Liam wouldn't budge and step aside from the door. "I've got to explain myself. It's not what it looked like."

"Right," Liam folded his arms over his chest. "You and your pledge class with paint brushes, in the art room, with all of the artwork ruined. No, of course it's not what it looked like because there's surely another explanation for that." His words were dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe I expected it from the rest, but I thought the three of you were different. And here I was, all this time, stupidly defending your fraternity. But maybe Zayn was right." He turned to unlock the door.

"Let me see him!"

"No." Liam walked into the room, and shut the door in Harry's face.

It was painful to know that Zayn was on the other side of that door, maybe just a few feet away from him, but unwilling to even let him explain. Harry slammed his hand on the door, cringing at the slight pain it caused in his wrist. "Zayn! You've got to let me talk to you. I didn't want to do it. They made me!" He waited, but there was no reply. No movement could be heard from the other side. "Zayn!"

Louis emerged from their room, took Harry by the arm, and gently pulled him away. "Enough, Harry," he said softly. Harry struggled just for a second, but he eventually let Louis lead him back to their room. 

It was a struggle not to cry, or scream, or do both. Harry sat down on the edge of his bed, slumped over, and buried his face in his hands. He stayed in that position for a while, and only dropped his hands when he felt a light touch on his shoulder.

"It's all so fucked up, Lou," Harry whispered.

"I know," Louis replied, but didn't add on to it. There was nothing else to be said.

The three of them had been suspended from pledge events, and they would have to wait until a final decision was made. At this point, Harry didn't care about his future in the fraternity anymore. All he wanted was to get Zayn back, but it was impossible since Zayn refused to even look at him.

The door opened, and Niall walked in carrying a plastic bag. "Bit of cheering up, lads." He dumped the contents of the bag on Harry's bed. String cheese and a DVD of _Inglourious Basterds_.

"Cheese?" Louis picked one up. "Why?"

"Why not?" came Niall's reply as he put the disc in the DVD player. He walked back to the bed, plopped down on it, tore the plastic off the cheese, and bit the top off.

"For the love of all that's good and holy, Niall!" Louis' eyes widened. "You can't eat string cheese like that!" 

Harry drowned out the cheese conversation, as well as the movie. He wasn't in the mood for much right now, and the only thing that filled his brain were thoughts of how to get Zayn to talk to him again. Harry _did_ keep his promise. He didn't choose anyone over Zayn, and he still had every intention of staying, but Zayn was making it incredibly difficult for him. Harry couldn't blame him. He knew Zayn's trust was a fragile thing, and once it was broken, it could be damn near impossible to get back. But Harry would try.

\---

Going to class was just so inconvenient, especially when all Harry wanted to do was lay in his bed and sleep. He didn't feel like being a functioning member of society, nor did he have much drive for it now. He couldn't really give a shit about the fraternity anymore, but his thoughts were all _ZaynZaynZayn_ , like the thought of possibly getting him back was the only thing keeping him upright. Being in class was the worst, and there was no way in hell he could concentrate. He just sat there, staring at his blank notebook, until class was dismissed. 

He quickened his pace at the thought of his bed. He would stay beneath his blankets until it was time for dinner, but even then, he'd probably skip it. Seeing his pledge class would be uncomfortable, even though he knew they they supported him, Niall, and Louis. All he wanted was a good four years of college, and he thought it would be the best time of his life, but this definitely wasn't a good start. 

Harry then suddenly stopped in his tracks when he saw Zayn across the street. His heart broke all over again at the sight of him. That messy hair, a jacket that was a bit too big for his small frame, and glasses. Harry had always liked those glasses, and he liked them better than when Zayn wore contacts. Everything about the sight in front of him made him die a little, and took all he had not to call out Zayn's name. He didn't want to cause a scene, but he _did_ need to talk to him.

He looked both ways, then jogged across the street, and fell in step next to Zayn, who didn't even so much as pause to look at him. Harry expected this.

"Zayn, I need to explain what you saw. It wasn't at all what you think," Harry didn't know why he was out of breath, but he figured it was nerves. "Victor is... well, he's really fucking evil, and it was all his idea. Nobody wanted to do it, and the pledges even tried to save some of the paintings, and I tried to save yours--"

"Shut up," Zayn suddenly hissed. He stopped walking and turned his whole body to face Harry. "I don't want to hear anymore excuses. I'm done, Harry, and I'm tired. I gave you way more than you deserved. I gave you..." he took a deep breath, his face was pained. ".. Fuck, I gave you so much of my trust. I barely took any time, and I just handed over to you. But what did I get in return? What I got was you standing over my painting--"

"Z, please!" Harry begged. "It wasn't--"

"With a fucking brush in your hand."

Harry took a step back and dragged his fingers through his hair, tugging on it a little. He was at a complete loss on what to do, since Zayn refused to believe a single word he said. "You don't understand," Harry said in a low, tired voice. This whole thing drained him. "He made me. He literally _made_ me."

"So he put a gun to your head, and told you that if you didn't do it, he'd shoot? Well, shit, in that case..." Zayn just rolled his eyes and continued walking. 

Harry groaned, then reached out to grab Zayn's arm, but he just yanked it out of his grip. "Stop. Zayn, just stop. You won't even listen to what I'm trying to say!"

"Because everything that comes out of your mouth is bullshit, Harry. So yeah, I'm done," Zayn walked a little faster, then called out, "Liam!"

Harry looked straight ahead, and saw Liam and Niall standing in front of their building, speaking close, and quietly. But they both looked up when they heard Zayn's voice, and Liam began to walk towards them.

"Can you tell him to stop talking to me? He won't listen when I say it," Zayn then quickly made his way up the stairs to their floor, without another backwards glance.

Liam looked a little conflicted, but his loyalty was to Zayn, so he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You've got to stop, and leave him alone," and he added, like an afterthought. "For now."

Harry's face scrunched up, "But I just--"

"Harry," Liam said gently, but firmly. "For now, alright?"

Harry didn't know what else to do, so he just nodded. Niall joined them a second later, and offered a small smile. "Let's just go up, alright?"

This wasn't how it was supposed to be, and Harry was _so close_ to getting everything he wanted. Now the question was whether to just let it be, or keep fighting for it. And at this point, he wasn't sure which to choose.


	10. 10

It wasn't the easiest thing, to be living right next to Harry, and not knowing when he would accidentally run into him. Then they had that one class together, and Zayn went right back to sitting across the room, just like he used to. It was difficult, and everything made his chest ache. The past few days had been good to him; to them both. But it felt like it was nothing but a pleasant dream, and now he was back to living a harsh and dismal reality. What a cruel joke this was. But by this time, he was used to life's cruel jokes.

Liam went back to tutoring Niall, but they took their lessons to the library since Zayn was still quite miffed at anything connected to that night. He couldn't help but hate anything that had to do with Alpha Delta Epsilon, and he often glared at anyone who was wearing the letters. How could people be so cruel and do what they did to those paintings? How could that possibly be considered fun?

He never went to the cafeteria anymore, since he couldn't bear to see Harry, or even Louis and Niall, which was quite sad since he liked the other two, but they were guilty by association. Besides Liam, the three next door were the closest friends he had at Highlands, and he hated how one night ruined three good friendships. Though he wasn't really sure what he had with Harry. Yes, it was a friendship, but there was something else to it. It was a certain thing that he often brushed aside, or pushed to the back of his mind so he could examine it closely later. But he never really took the time to pick it apart. The reason was that he was scared. If he acknowledged it, it only meant that he would have so much more to lose. And just as he predicted, he lost Harry. So he was relieved that he didn't delve too deeply into that _unknown_ part of it all. But it didn't make it hurt any less.

“My girlfriend and I broke up,” Liam announced when he walked into the room.

Zayn looked up from his laptop, “Oh shit, I'm sorry. What happened?”

Liam dropped his backpack on the floor, shrugged, then grabbed his own laptop and brought it over to his bed. “Scheduling conflicts.”

“Liam... you two live on campus.”

“Yeah, well, I think I should really concentrate on my studies right now. Plus, she's got a lot going for her anyway, so she won't be too shook up about it for long.”

Zayn watched him closely, but he couldn't really get a proper read on Liam's expression. It was just sort of blank. “You sure you're alright, mate?”

“Yeah,” Liam replied quickly. A little too quickly. “Yeah, I... you know. It's a breakup. It feels like crap, but it happens.”

Zayn wasn't sure if he should pry, and he didn't want to be too invasive. He figured Liam would tell him on his own. He also couldn't help but think that the both of them were now going through somewhat the same thing. A breakup. Though he definitely _wasn't_ dating Harry. God, no, he didn't even want to go there. Those were dangerous thoughts to have.

“You know, if you ever want to talk...” Zayn began to say.

Liam just gave a small smile and nodded. “I've got you, I know.” He went back to looking at his laptop, and Zayn decided to just leave it at that. 

\---

It was midnight. Liam was still up, and Zayn couldn't sleep either. He thought about his ruined painting and wondered if there was a way he could still salvage it. A part of him didn't want to. He wanted it as a reminder of the kind of destruction that could come out of trusting someone like Harry Styles. 

He told Liam he was off to the media building, grabbed his key, and walked out of the room. And in the hallway, he ran into Louis. It was a little bit awkward, on both sides, but Zayn didn't  _hate_ Louis. Though both boys knew that Zayn had every right to be disappointed.

“Hi,” Louis said with hesitation in his voice. “Where you off to?”

“Media building,” Zayn replied, keeping his eyes on the floor.

There was an uneasy silence, then Louis spoke up. “I didn't touch any of the paintings. Neither did Niall. The terrible painting jobs on those blank canvases, that was us, and a few of the pledges too. We couldn't... and neither could Harry. You need to know that.”

Zayn rubbed his nose, still keeping his gaze low, “I walked in, and I saw what Harry did.”

Louis just shook his head, “That was a misunderstanding, Zayn.”

“Yeah, that's what everyone's telling me. But unless I'm crazy, which I hope I'm not, I _know_ what I saw.”

He was stubborn, and there was really no convincing him. And everyone knew that. “He's really torn up about this. About you.”

Zayn shrugged and didn't say anything.

“Could you just talked to him?” Louis continued. “Let him explain everything. You can't just go on without getting his side of the story.”

“I heard it all, Lou. I know all the bullshit by heart already. 'It was a misunderstanding.' 'He was forced.' 'It wasn't his fault.' Yeah, I've got it.” Zayn shoved his hands in his pockets. “I'm just tired, alright? I gave it another go, and it all blew up in my face.”

“Just please, talk to--”

“I've got things to do.” Zayn quickly brushed past him, not the slightest bit interested in what he had to say. Louis was Harry's friend, and much closer to him, so his opinion would be biased. And Zayn wasn't about to just give in. _I'm not going to give in anymore_ , he thought to himself as he pushed the door open. And as he did so, he ran into the last person he wanted to see. His eyes widened, then his brows drew together in a glare. He just couldn't catch a fucking break, could he? 

“Sorry,” Harry said quietly, then he stepped aside so Zayn could pass through. 

Zayn just looked at him for a moment. He looked worse now than he did when he was pledging. There were bags underneath his bloodshot eyes, new spots on his face, and a few wild curls escaped from beneath his beanie. The tip of his nose was red, and he looked like he'd been crying. Zayn resisted the urge to ask if he was alright, and he tried to tell himself that he just didn't care. Harry's tears weren't going to mean anything to him. But he didn't move from his spot, even when Harry had stepped aside to let him through.

“Zayn?” Harry's voice was soft and hoarse, confused as to why Zayn hadn't moved. His lips twitched a little, and he took one small step forward. “C-Could we maybe talk? I was wondering if--”

Zayn held up a hand to silence him.  _No giving in_ , he told himself firmly. And that's what he'd stick to. “Save it. I've gotta go.” And with that, he walked by him without another glance back. What he didn't expect was the hurt that suddenly washed over his body, and he could feel it right at the core of him. He hated how human he was, and how his anger always had to follow with sadness. It just wasn't fair. He wanted to be angry, and he wanted that anger to be the only thing he felt. But that couldn't be possible.

When he got to the art room, he saw that he wasn't alone. A girl was sitting on a stool, fixing a painting that had so obviously been tampered with, but Zayn saw she was doing a pretty good job.

“They got yours too?” he asked.

Startled, she turned around quickly, “You scared me! Didn't know anyone would be up this late.” She looked back at her painting. “Yeah, they only got this one. I've got two more that weren't touched. But they were shoved in some cabinets, so that was a bit odd.”

Zayn recalled Louis and Harry saying that the pledges tried to save some of the paintings. He supposed they were right about that. “I walked in on them doing it.” He walked over to his painting and examined it. “This is the only one of mine they got, so I'm hoping it's fixable.”

The girl hopped off her stool, walked over to him, and looked at the painting. “That's a beauty,” she said in awe. “You've got some talent there. I bet you'll fix it no problem.”

He offered a small smile, then looked at her, now noticing that she was quite pretty. “I'm Zayn.”

The girl looked up at him, and grinned. “I'm Perrie.” 


	11. 11

When Harry first saw it, he couldn't believe his eyes. How many fucking days did it take for Zayn to stop moping? Not too long, apparently, because there he was, hand in hand with some fucking bottle blonde who wore a little too much makeup. Who the _fuck_ was _she_ , and what exactly kind of hold did she have on Zayn? Because as far as he could remember, Zayn never really went out with girls. So what made this one so goddamn special? Harry wanted to throw up.

He stomped into the room, threw his backpack on the floor, picked up his pillow and hurled it at Louis.

"Ouch, Harry!" Louis rubbed his shoulder, even though it didn't hurt much at all.

"Zayn's got a new girlfriend."

Louis raised both eyebrows, and nodded slowly. "Alright, then. Good for him."

"No!" Harry raised his voice, grabbed his pillow off the floor, and was about to throw it again. But instead, he dropped it back on his bed. "Not good for him!" He didn't know what to do. This had become all too much for him. He had been doing all he could to win back Zayn's friendship only to be met with rejection, and now there he was, off gallivanting with some girl he had only probably just met. And how could Zayn have forgotten everything that had happened between them? It meant _something_ to Harry, and surely it meant something to Zayn too. Didn't it? Harry gritted his teeth. Apparently not.

"Harry...?" Louis said. "You look like you want to kill something."

Sure, Harry wanted to kill something. It was blonde, small, with fashion that was meant to be 'quirky' or some shit. Well, he didn't want to _kill_ her exactly, that was a bit too much. But maybe if she transferred or something. Yeah, that would be good. Transferred far, far away to another university on Mars. Or the sun.

Niall walked into the room, looked at Harry, then finally to Louis. "What's wrong with him?"

Louis shrugged. "He said Zayn had a girlfriend, then said it wasn't good for him, and now he's shut up."

Harry glared at the both of them, "Because she _isn't_ good for him. He's just being completely mad, and out of his mind. He doesn't know what he's doing." 

"You've got four years, you guys will have to make up eventually. And maybe a girlfriend would do him some good, yeah?" Niall said. 

"Oh! Speaking of a girlfriend, maybe _you_ could use one, Harry." Louis spoke up excitedly. "Eleanor's got this friend, Taylor. She's in Sigma Omega Delta. She's--"

"Is she the squinty one?" Harry interrupted, grimacing a little.

"Well... I mean, yeah, I suppose she's a bit squinty--"

"Then no. She's got an expression like she's just eaten something sour. It's like, forever stuck on her face. No."

"But Harry--"

"No."

And before Louis or Niall could say anything, he quickly stood up, and made his way out of the room. He didn't know what he was doing, or where exactly he was going, but he knew that if he didn't move, he'd just go crazy. 

He hurried out of the building, and began to walk towards a more secluded part of campus. It was small field just behind the library, but there was a cluster of trees, and he loved it when the sun hit just at the right moment. Thin streams of sunlight peaked through the branches and the leaves, and it was as beautiful as poetry itself. Harry came here to find solace, to find an escape from his mind. But he knew that one couldn't ever really escape the mind, which was such a terrible curse. 

It wasn't too long ago when they had shared a bed. They didn't do much of anything to hint at something more than friendship. Did they? Harry knew boys didn't just do that, since there was a certain amount of physical and emotional space to be kept between boys who were just proper mates. He wasn't stupid. He knew there was something there. Something unspoken, that neither of them wanted to talk about. He wasn't sure what Zayn's reason could be, but Harry's reason was that he wanted to fit in. That was always the reason. And he knew that this was a college in Southern California, so that meant it was cool, laid-back, progressive, liberal, and all of that. But when he had fears, he held on to them. He latched on, and had to be shaken off. Trying to talk to Zayn took four years, which was the perfect example of how he went about dealing with his lack of courage. 

But then there was that one instance back at the art room, during the pledge prank. He had chosen Zayn, and that took only a second. When he had Zayn, he was braver. And perhaps he could have gotten over his fear of whatever had been going on between them, but now he'd never know. Because Zayn had a stupid girlfriend. 

It was dumb though, wasn't it? To be feeling this way for a person he had cast aside, and ignored for a few years. It was odd, to develop this strange longing in the middle of mending their friendship. Harry recalled the night he slipped into Zayn's bed, and smelling him, and touching his skin. He remembered waking up in the morning, with the light streaming through the window, and across the carpeted floor of the dimly lit room. It didn't feel like _just_ friendship then. And maybe it never was... _just_. 

_A pair of star-crossed lovers_.

Well, perhaps it wasn't to the extent of Shakespeare, but they were certainly star-crossed. Never meant to be. Forever _thwarted by a malign star_. Harry fancied himself a tortured and unlucky soul, weaving through a forest, and contemplating his dark and dismal life. But in fact, he was just a boy who had funny little feelings for someone he couldn't have, while wandering around behind the library.

He had about enough of this. He shoved his hands into his pockets, then made his way back to The Redwoods. Maybe his roommates would drink with him later, because he sure as hell needed it. Just as he was about to walk up to his floor, he spotted a light cloud of smoke just behind the building. He walked around, peeked around the corner, and saw Zayn sitting by himself on the bench, with a cigarette dangling between his lips. His hair stuck out in all directions, and he was wearing the jeans with all the rips, and the Sharpie doodles. His boots were also unlaced. They were always unlaced.

Harry slowly turned the corner so that he was in view. Zayn looked up, and met his eyes, but he didn't say anything. Harry walked closer until he was standing directly in front of him.

"You've got a girlfriend," he finally said.

"Yeah," Zayn replied.

"A bit quick?"

"Suppose so, yeah."

Harry clenched his jaw a little, then quickly looked down at his shoes. "You..." his voice broke, so he cleared his throat. "You don't usually get girlfriends."

Zayn shrugged. "Things change."

Harry's head was swimming, and he tightened his mouth a bit, when it felt like his bottom lip was about to quiver. This hurt a lot, and he hated how much he felt. It was gradual throughout the day, but seeing Zayn here in front of him caused a sudden wave to wash over him, and knock him down. God, it _hurt_. "I chose you," he managed to choke out. "Victor gave me a choice that night, and I chose _you_. But then you... you walked in right when he made me do it."

Zayn's expression was blank. Unreadable. He took a long pull from his cigarette, dropped it on the ground, and crushed it beneath his shoe. He blew out a stream of smoke before looking up at Harry again. "Guess it's my turn not to choose you."

What Harry felt before was nothing compared to this. Zayn's words were like daggers, and he felt each and every stab. His brows furrowed, and his mouth parted slightly, almost in shock. Tears blurred his vision, and he whispered, "God, that's cruel."

Zayn stood up, and brushed past him. "Welcome to the life I had with you. Doesn't feel too good, huh?"

Harry remained standing in that spot, long after the sound of Zayn's footsteps faded away.


	12. 12

Zayn wasn't exactly head over heels in love with Perrie. She was decent company, and she adored him, and he hadn't been adored by anyone in a while. Well, that was false. When he was with Harry during those few days, he did feel wanted, and he almost felt that adoration coming from him. But all he wanted now was a distraction, something to take his mind off the betrayal he felt from his “friend,” and he thought perhaps Perrie could be that distraction. But he was wrong. He was so wrong.

He wasn't blind. He saw the kind of state Harry was in, and he knew that most of it was his fault. Perhaps _all_ of it was his fault, but he couldn't help but feel like the boy deserved this in some way. Zayn wanted to get revenge, and he wanted Harry to feel exactly what he felt when he was tossed aside for something considered “better.” But to be honest, Perrie wasn't better than Harry. When Zayn was with Perrie, he was on autopilot. He played the role of dutiful boyfriend, but that's all it was. Just a role. When Zayn was with Harry, he had been himself, he felt warm all over, comfortable, and nervous at the same time. He felt everything all at once, and he'd never been so wonderfully human, and open to every single feeling that presented itself. He _liked_ it. A part of him wanted it back, but an even bigger part told him that Harry didn't deserve his friendship.

But ugh, Perrie was around all the time. And except for a few kisses here and there, they didn't touch all that much, and that was mainly Zayn's fault. He kept his distance, and whenever she wanted to hang out, Zayn would force Liam to play third wheel. It's not that she was unattractive. Sure, she was cute, but there was no fire, there was no passion, and someone like him needed that to be able to sustain a relationship. He never felt that way for anyone. 

Well, no, that was sort of a lie.

There was Harry. He felt a sort of flicker when they were together. No, it was more than a flicker. It burned, and burned, and burned. Zayn thought it was almost of an obsession, and he hated how it ruled his mind. It was quite funny how much he could ignore a person, when in fact, that person dominated every step, every breath, every heartbeat, every waking moment. 

When he would see Harry randomly around campus, he could feel his insides collapse. When he'd see Harry passing by the small crack of his latched door, his stomach would twist. His body reacted to everything Harry did, and he hated it and loved it at the same time. 

“Zayn?” Perrie leaned against his side and clutched on to his arm. “Are you listening?”

_No_ , Zayn wanted to say. And he tried to hide the fact that his eye twitched at the contact. Being in a relationship with someone he had no desire for wasn't the best of ideas, but it was better than constantly being alone and moping. “Yeah, I heard you. Uh, listen, I need to study for a test, so I'm gonna get going.”

“Oh,” Perrie's face fell, but she didn't let go of his arm. “I can sit with you, if you'd like.”

“No,” Zayn said a little too quickly. “I mean... no, it's okay. I'll just get distracted. 'Cause... you're so distracting and all.” And that was his attempt at a compliment, though forced and half-hearted. But it seemed to satisfy her, so she kissed his cheek and skipped off. God, this was such a chore. Truth was, he had no test to study for, but now that he made up a lie, he at least had to follow through with it just in case she caught him elsewhere. 

He was about to text Liam, to ask him to keep him company in the library, but he forgot that his roommate was in class right now. He would've asked Louis or Niall, but their friendship was still rocky, and they were still close to Harry. Zayn wasn't ready for that yet. So he walked into the library alone. Truthfully, the library was one of the best places to be alone, and he enjoyed the quiet, and the rows and rows of books. He also like the desks that were far off and isolated, especially the ones on the second floor. It made him feel like he was the only one in that library, and sometimes, that's what he needed. As he was making his way up the stairs, he spotted a mop of curly hair between the aisles. There was no denying who that was, and a part of him told him to keep walking, but he ignored it. He crept towards the area, and he stood in the aisle just right next to Harry's, thankful for the bookshelf that separated them. But Zayn could sort of see him through the rows of books, so he just stood there and watched.

Harry was reading a book, completely engrossed in it. Zayn could tell by the way he furrowed his brows. But then again, that's how Harry was with every book. He would read all the words, and he never skimmed. He fell in love with sentences, and with certain words. Zayn recalled when they were younger, Harry would often nudge him and point out something in a book that made him laugh, which caused Zayn to laugh too because he had been so amused with Harry's obvious enchantment with these pages. And even when Harry was sad, he would read.  _Other characters' problems make me forget my own_ , Zayn remembered him saying. And he agreed.

Harry lifted his eyes from the book and turned his head, and for a split second, Zayn thought they made eye contact.  _Shit_ . He quickly ducked down, waited for a few seconds, then straightened back up again to look through the small space between the books. Harry wasn't there anymore causing Zayn to panic a little.

“Zayn?”

He turned his head quickly, and saw Harry standing at the end of he aisle. Zayn then pretended to pick out a book, then he flipped through the pages. “Oh. Hey,” he said casually, though he was a terrible actor. There was a long silence, and he was well aware that Harry knew he was spying. How the hell was he going to get out of this?

“How long have you been here?” Harry asked. His voice was low, sad, and a little tired.

Zayn shrugged. He was still trying to show Harry how much he didn't care, and how this entire thing between them didn't affect him. “Not long,” he mumbled as he stared down at the pages, pretending like they were more interesting than Harry.

“Oh,” came Harry's reply.

Zayn finally turned to look at him again. He almost stopped breathing. Harry was visibly weighed down, and his eyes that usually held a spark just looked tired and lifeless. It hurt Zayn to see him like this, but he couldn't just go on and forgive him again. If Zayn gave him another chance, there was sure to be a third betrayal. Two was enough, and people don't change.

“Do you need something?” Zayn asked with an annoyed tone. He didn't want to see the sadness in Harry's eyes anymore. It was too much, and if he stuck around for too long, he'd just want to take him back in hopes that this wouldn't happen again, and maybe they'd go back to being happy. But Zayn learned his lesson, and he knew there was always a consequence that came with being too trusting. He wouldn't repeat that mistake.

“No,” Harry answered. “I just saw you through the books, and I wasn't sure if it was you, so I was...” he stopped in mid-sentence, looking like he just wanted to stop talking, but he continued anyway. “... just making sure.”

Zayn raised his brows. “Um, yeah. Well, you made sure. Bye then.”

Harry didn't move from his spot, and Zayn looked back at him. Oh fuck, was Harry about to cry? He saw the boy's mouth tighten and tremble a little, and his eyes blinked rapidly.  _No, no, no,_ was all Zayn could think. He couldn't watch this. Not Harry's tears. But there it was, one tear trickling down his cheek, only to be brushed away. That's all it took for Zayn's heart to feel like it was exploding, screaming at him,  _Take Harry back. Forgive him_ . But he just couldn't. He couldn't do that to himself anymore. 

He slipped the book back on the shelf, and walked quickly past Harry. Their shoulders brushed, and Zayn tried to ignore how that brief contact spread electricity through his body, right down to his fingertips and toes. This entire thing hurt him. It hurt them both.

But there was a strange pleasure in yearning for someone who is completely wrong for you.


	13. 13

Harry wasn't really sure what he was doing here, and to be honest, he'd rather be anywhere else. He was sitting a few feet away from Taylor. She had her guitar out, and was strumming and singing something cutesy that she had written herself. There was a bunch of references to pickup trucks and kissing in the rain, and Harry tried his hardest to look interested. But her face was so distracting, and not in the good way either.

Taylor Squint. That's what he called her in his head. Though he could see and understand a _tiny_ bit of the appeal, she was a bit on the mousey side. Harry scooted a bit further away, hoping she wouldn't notice. Her perfume gave him a headache. And this was the worst time to think about Zayn's scent of soap, cologne, and tobacco, and how much better it was, and how he couldn't get enough of it.

But god, he was so fucking done with Zayn's shit. Not that he was done with _Zayn_ , but he was done with how he was being treated, when technically, he had done nothing wrong this time. Zayn had made him cry. And now that he thought about it, nobody else had ever gotten tears out of him. Just Zayn. And he disliked it.

It was Louis who talked him into giving Taylor a chance, and although Harry would rather drink cyanide than go out with anyone right now, especially Taylor, he couldn't help but listen to Louis' arguments.

"You're a mess, and Zayn knows it too," Louis said. "He's shoving the fact that he's completely okay in your face."

Harry shrugged, rubbed his nose, and sniffed. "But he's not okay. He's mad, and that's why he's trying to hurt me."

"And that justifies it all?" Louis glared. "You've done all you could, Harry. Now it's your turn to be okay."

Right. It was his turn to be okay, and the first step was dating to take his mind of the current situation. But the one part he didn't expect was that he'd be comparing every single second to the few days he had with Zayn. That just made him feel pathetic, but there was no way he could control his mind. It was a strange thing to say. "My brain has a brain of its own." But there was no truer statement.

He honestly hated it though. Having to spend time with Taylor, and act like he tolerated her even a little bit. She was so bubbly and excited all the damn time, and Harry often wondered if she took a break from it all. But he _had_ to do it. He had to prove to Zayn, to everyone, and especially to himself that he wasn't going to let one person break him. 

So here he was, sitting outside the cafeteria, listening to Taylor strum and sing to an adoring crowd, pretending like he was part of it. But his head was elsewhere. It was always elsewhere. He finally slipped out of his reverie and decided to look up just in time to see Zayn pass by with Perrie. Something snapped inside him, and he moved in right next to Taylor, slipping an arm around her waist. "You're so talented," he said in a strained voice, then he leaned in, and kissed her cheek. She giggled, and rested her head on his shoulder.

Harry looked up again, and saw that Zayn had stopped walking. He was now staring directly at the both of them, his eyes blazing. 

\---

It's not that he was proud of himself for doing what he did, but he felt that it was necessary. He kept the image of Zayn's face in his mind, and how upset he looked. The way his jaw clenched, and the anger in his eyes. Harry smiled a little smugly to himself as he leaned back against his pillows, with his laptop propped up on his lap. Hurting Zayn was the last thing he wanted to do, but he couldn't take the agony of his own crushed feelings. 

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Harry turned around expecting it to be one of his roommates. And he nearly dropped his laptop when he saw Zayn storm inside, slamming the door shut behind him. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Zayn hissed, making his way over to Harry. "Taylor? Because she's totally your type, right?"

Harry shut his laptop, set it down on the bed, and stood up. "Yeah, because you're so fucking into Perrie, right? What do you see in her, huh? Besides the fact that she's got about two pounds of makeup on her face."

"Says the guy who's dating a rodent!" 

Harry moved right in front of Zayn, and shoved him back. "Fuck off, Zayn. So you're allowed to have a girlfriend, and you're also allowed to treat me like shit, but the second I move on and do the same, you come in here acting like it's World War III? You're bloody _insane_!"

Zayn gritted his teeth, grabbed Harry by the front of his shirt, then pushed him back against the nearest wall. Harry winced in pain, and tried to squirm away, but Zayn had a strong grip on him. "You fuck me up over and over again," he growled. "When are you going to stop?" His eyes darkened, and he was breathing heavily. Harry placed his hands on Zayn's arm, trying to push him away, but the boy didn't budge. Harry could feel the muscles in Zayn's arm tremble, then clench beneath his fingers.

"I keep telling you," Harry was suddenly breathless and a little weak, his hold on Zayn wavered before he let go, and just stopped struggling. "I chose _you_. You, you, you! I don't know how many fucking times I've got to say it!"

"But I--"

"Yeah, you saw me holding the brush, and you saw your painting. But what you didn't see was Victor literally _forcing_ my hand down while his stupid minion held on to me. So fuck you, Zayn! I thought we--" Harry quickly stopped himself, and swallowed his words. He was close to crying again. "You wouldn't let me fucking explain, and you had to go on and be with Perrie." Tears stung his eyes, but all that did was anger him. He was done crying over Zayn. He mustered up all his strength, and shoved the other boy back. Zayn stumbled backwards a little, his eyes widening. "So you don't get to come in here and make me feel like shit for doing the same thing you are, you fucking hypocrite. I did _everything_ I could to get you back, but it's like you can't get over your high school grudge, so you're trying to hurt me worse than I hurt you. And yeah, maybe I deserve it. But shit, Zayn, there's a fucking line." 

Zayn didn't say anything. He just stood there, with his stormy hazel eyes, and his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. 

Harry wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, and shrugged. "I'm just done."

"Are you?" Zayn narrowed his eyes at him.

"Yeah, I'm--" but before Harry could finish his sentence, Zayn had him pinned against the wall again, their lips colliding painfully so that Harry couldn't utter another word. Zayn kissed him hard and hungrily, grunting faintly against his lips, and for the first few seconds, Harry couldn't register what the fuck was happening. Zayn was _kissing_ him. Harry slipped his hands beneath Zayn's shirt, and dug his fingertips into his skin, before scratching down his bare sides. He felt Zayn hiss against his lips, causing Harry to smirk a little. But Zayn got revenge by curling his fingers through Harry's hair, grabbing a fistful of it, before yanking his head to the side to expose his neck. His lips wrapped around the sensitive skin of Harry's neck, and he nipped and sucked on it, biting hard as if to claim his territory, and he didn't stop until a bruise blossomed on his skin. He slammed their lips back together, and Harry tasted blood. Whether it was his or Zayn's, he didn't know. Maybe it was both.

"Still done with me?" Zayn murmured against his lips. 

Harry weakened again, and didn't want to stop kissing him to give an answer, but he knew he had to. "No," he whispered into the kiss. 

Zayn then abruptly stopped and pulled back, despite Harry's whimpers. Their mouths were puffy and bruised, and there was some blood on Zayn's lower lip. Zayn swiped his tongue over it, licking it clean, then he made his way over to the door. He looked back at Harry over his shoulder. 

"Break up with your fucking girlfriend." And with that, he left, and shut the door behind him.


	14. 14

It was a surprise for Zayn to see Harry, Lou, and Niall all wear matching sweatshirts with "ΑΔΕ" on the front, since he hadn't heard anything about them returning to the fraternity. He wasn't thrilled about it in the least bit.

"Our pledge class told the president about what happened, and Victor and his friends were forced to be inactive until they figure out what to do," Harry explained to him. "They let us back in for initiation." He grinned proudly down at his new letters, completely oblivious to the fact that Zayn showed no signs of excitement. 

Zayn was sitting at his desk, trying to finish a bit of homework, and all he did was nod at Harry's story. He wasn't too enthusiastic about much, and he still was quite wary when it came to Harry, since the trust wasn't one hundred percent. He wasn't sure if it ever would be.

"Good for you," he replied, but Harry failed to hear the sarcasm in his voice. Great. Harry was now an Alpha, right at the second the both of them took a step towards trying again. This couldn't be good, and Zayn was just expecting another let down. He sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and continued on with his homework.

"I'm not bothering you, am I?" Harry asked nervously.

Zayn just shook his head, but didn't say anything. Harry didn't move for a moment, but he eventually took a step forward, then walked to where Zayn sat. He leaned in, rested his chin against the boy's shoulder, and slipped his arms around him.

"I didn't leave," Harry said quietly, his soft breath grazing against Zayn's ear, making him shiver. "I never did." 

Zayn closed his eyes and didn't move. He fought every impulse to lean into Harry's touch, and he was succeeding for a while. But Harry's lips touched his neck, and he just melted. It was so unfair. Harry unwrapped his arms from Zayn, then moved in front of him to straddle his lap. He framed the other boy's face with his hands, and locked their eyes together.

"Pay attention to me," Harry said firmly.

Zayn's brows furrowed, "I am."

"No, you're not. Your mind is on whatever I did during high school, and it's on what you _think_ I did in the art room. Pay attention to _me_ , and how I am right now. Pay attention to what we've got here." Harry moved his face closer, pressing their foreheads together. "I don't want to keep competing with the past. But if I've got to, then yeah, I will. But I don't _want_ to. So just try, okay? Try to pay attention to me."

Zayn let out a quiet breath, placed his hands on Harry's waist, and nodded. "Fine."

Harry smiled. "Good." And he pressed their lips together, locking into a kiss that was a lot different than their first. It was slower, and sweeter, and Zayn was able to fully appreciate the plumpness of Harry's lips, and the taste of his tongue. They sighed and whimpered into each other's mouths, as Harry's fingers tangled through Zayn's hair, and Zayn's hands disappeared beneath Harry's shirt. 

The door suddenly opened, accompanied with, "Oh my god, fuck, shit, shit." Liam had walked in, and he quickly turned so that his back was facing them. "Please tell me you two weren't--"

"We're not!" Zayn interrupted, his cheeks flushing, while Harry awkwardly stumbled off his lap. They hadn't even attempted that yet. "Turn around now. We're decent." 

Liam turned to look at them. "Listen up, you debaucherous pair. Maybe shoot me a text, or put a sock on the door, or--"

"We didn't plan it! And it was PG-13 stuff," Zayn said.

"Strictly second base," Harry added, as he scooped up his backpack. "Anyway, I've gotta get to class now. Liam, look away, I'm going to kiss Zayn." Liam just rolled his eyes, though he was concealing a small smile. Harry leaned in, and gave Zayn a quick peck on the lips. "See you, Z."

"See you, Harry."

The second Harry left, Liam spoke up. "The mother of all plot twists."

Zayn rubbed his forehead. "Tell me about it."

"Here we were thinking you just wanted his friendship back." Liam said as he began pulling his books out of his backpack. "Turns out you're in love with him."

"I'm not in love," Zayn said quickly, but Liam just gave him a look. "Listen, it's not that. I'm not sure what it is, but-- will you stop looking at me like that!" But Liam's stare didn't waver. "God. Fine. I don't know. I'm going to finish my homework." And even though Liam dropped the subject, Zayn couldn't help but think about what he had said. He didn't want to give too much of himself away, and once again, he felt weak and pathetic that he was on this level. Maybe Liam was right. 

\---

Walks always cleared Zayn's head. Sometimes, it was the best kind of therapy. There was a difference between being still and thinking, and moving and thinking. When he would be laying down, with his brain going a mile a minute, it was almost torturous, and a bit nauseating. But actually moving around helped the stress that came from overthinking. 

As he was walking by the cafeteria, he spotted Harry. The weight in his chest lightened immediately, and he began to make his way over, but he abruptly stopped when he saw Harry wasn't alone. There she was. Tall, curly blonde hair, red lipstick. _Taylor_. Her head was thrown back, and she was laughing. Definitely not the look of a girl who had just been dumped, meaning... Harry hadn't broken up with her.

Zayn's throat tightened, and his fingers curled into fists as he watched all this taking place in front of him. He could feel his jaw clench, and his teeth grind, and he wanted to be anywhere but here, though he found that he couldn't look away. He liked to torture himself, apparently. The fraternity boy with the sorority girl. What a cute fucking couple they were. And Zayn arrived to the conclusion that he would let them know.

As he moved closer, he saw that Harry had caught sight of him. The look on Harry's face was one of slow-growing horror. _Good_ , Zayn thought to himself. 

"Hey guys!" Zayn put on his most charming smile as he stopped right in front of Harry and Taylor. "Harry, I forgot the homework for our class. Could you give it to me?"

Harry began to fidget with the strap of his backpack, and he managed to stammer out. "Erm, y-yeah. I'll, um, yeah, I'll drop it off later."

Zayn grinned. "Thanks, mate." Then he turned to Taylor. "Sorry, I don't think I've introduced myself. You must be Harry's girlfriend, Taylor. I'm Zayn. I grew up with Harry."

Taylor clapped her hands together in glee, "Aw, you did? That's so cute! Harry's talked about you before. You're dating Perrie, right?"

"Not anymore," Zayn replied. Then with his next sentence, he looked directly at Harry. "I broke up with her." Harry just quickly looked down at his shoes.

"Aww, that's so sad." Taylor frowned a little, but not even a second later, she was back to smiling. "Do you have any embarrassing stories about Harry growing up? Oh my god, spill!"

Zayn smirked. "Oh, Taylor, have I got the story for you. When we were younger, Harry had a thing for taking his clothes off--"

"Zayn," Harry muttered, interrupting him. But Zayn just ignored.

"He'd just strip down and get naked, at the most random times. And he had the smallest, tiniest little--"

"Right!" Harry said loudly. "Enough of that. The past is the past." 

"-- winky you'd ever seen. I mean, that thing was _minuscule_. But hopefully, it's grown up a bit. I mean, for the sake of the lovely ladies that he's dating," Zayn smirked. 

Taylor's jaw dropped, and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Then she broke out into giggles, scooted closer to Harry, and clutched his arm. "That's so funny and cute!"

"Yep," Zayn clapped Harry on the back. "Funny and cute. Right, Harry?" He turned to look at Harry, the both of them glaring daggers at each other. Zayn chewed on the small nub of skin on the inside of his bottom lip, forcing himself not to say anything else out of anger. Because, well, he had a shitload to say. "Sorry, kids, but I've gotta get going. Good to meet you, Taylor."

"Awesome to meet you, Zayn!" she chirped, still clinging on to Harry.

Zayn walked away quickly, his head swimming in jealousy. His entire fucking _being_ was practically saturated in jealousy to the point where he was just seeing red. He couldn't believe that he almost considered what Liam had said to him before. In love with Harry? Yeah fucking right. Why would Zayn fall in love with something that constantly disappointed him? 

"Zayn!" he heard a voice call out. Harry's voice. But all Zayn did was speed up his walking. Harry finally caught up with him, breathing a little heavily. "God damn it, Zayn. You didn't have to go on and do all that!"

"I didn't?" Zayn stopped, and looked at him. "So these past couple of days you've been kissing me, and sleeping in my bed, you've also been with _her_?"

Harry shrank back, looking guilty. "I wasn't touching her or anything. I barely even saw her except in passing, like today. It wasn't anything."

"Right, so if it wasn't anything, then why can't you just break up with her? I broke it off with Perrie for you."

Harry cringed, and lowered his voice, "Not so loud, Z..."

And in that second, Zayn finally understood. He widened his eyes, took a step back, and laughed dryly. "Holy shit. You're _embarrassed_. Big ol' tough frat guy doesn't wanna be caught holding hands with the artsy loser who just so happens to be a boy."

Harry's nostrils flared a little, and his eyes narrowed. "It's not that easy. You're so fucking wrapped up in your own problems that you can't see past the end of your nose. Yeah, I'm scared, and I'm sorry that I'm not too keen on doing something radical like wearing a t-shirt in public saying 'out and proud' or some shit. I'm _scared_. I just got over some pretty big hurdles, and now you're expecting me to just overcome the biggest?"

"I'm not asking you to come out to everyone, you idiot," Zayn said through clenched teeth. "I'm just asking you to break up with your fucking girlfriend."

"Zayn--"

"No." Zayn didn't care what Harry had to say right now. Things never went smoothly with them, and he had a feeling they never would. And sure, he'd deal with it later, but right now he just wanted to lock himself up in his room and hide in his bed. He quickened his pace towards their building, with Harry trailing directly behind him. Harry kept trying to get Zayn's attention, but all attempts were ignored as they made their way up to their floor, and down the hall. 

"Fucking hell, won't you just listen to me!" Harry grabbed Zayn's wrist and turned him around. But instead of speaking, he moved in close, their lips colliding. Harry kissed him roughly, as if trying to kiss the anger out of him. But Zayn wasn't having any of that right now, and he captured Harry's bottom lip between his teeth, and bit down so hard, he drew blood. Harry yelped, and jumped back, bringing his hand up to his mouth. Blood trickled down from his lip, and a drop ran down his chin. "Fuck, Zayn," he hissed, trying to wipe the blood with his fingers. "That--"

"Hurt?" Zayn added for him. He felt a little bad for what he did, but not bad enough. He took a step closer to Harry, leaned in, and softly kissed his wounded bottom lip. He ran his tongue over it, tasting the metallic flavor of the blood, then finished it off by giving his lip a gentle suck. "There. It stopped bleeding... for now. Hold a damp towel to it, and you'll be fine."

Harry continued to stand there, looking at him like a scolded child. "Do you hate me?"

Zayn sighed. "No. But I don't feel like talking to you today."

"What about tomorrow?"

He shrugged. "You could try tomorrow." Then he went into his room, and shut the door.


	15. 15

Harry's heart swelled when he, Louis, and Niall had been invited back to the fraternity. He was slowly climbing up the Highlands social ladder, and he was close to getting Zayn's trust back (despite the few arguments they had).

“Hurting other people, and forcing your other brothers to inflict pain on other people is not what Alpha Delta Epsilon is about,” the fraternity's president had told them. “And those who encourage that kind of behavior don't deserve our letters.”

Victor and his friends were suspended from the organization, and faced being completely stripped of their letters, which was a terrible consequence for any Greek man or woman. Harry knew that if he crossed Victor on campus, it probably wouldn't be the most cordial of meetings, but with the entire fraternity backing him, he knew he would be safe. Now there was just one more thing to do. He needed to break up with Taylor.

He was with a group of his fraternity brothers in the library, doing their mandatory study hours. And when he could no longer focus on his algebra, he left the table to go lose himself in volumes of Shakespeare. Though this was convenient since he had homework due for one of his English classes, and he'd choose words over numbers any day.

“Algebra sucks, huh?”

Harry looked over his shoulder, and saw that Louis had followed him. “Yeah.”

Louis glanced at the book Harry had opened, and he wrinkled his nose. “No offense, but that isn't any better.”

Harry just laughed. “Yeah, well, I guess it's the lesser of two evils.”

“Suppose so,” Louis replied with a shrug. He paused for a moment, then spoke up again. “You'll break up with Taylor, right?”

This wasn't really a question Harry had expected from Louis, so he looked a bit startled. “Erm... yeah, I--”

“Oh, don't look so surprised.” Louis picked up a book, flipped through a few pages, made a face, then put it back on the shelf. “We know you're in love with Zayn. 'We' being me and Niall.”

Harry's eyes widened. He had been trying to be as subtle as possible, and be discreet about his new relationship with Zayn. The only people who knew outside of them was Liam.

“And anyway,” Louis continued. “Liam tells Niall everything.”

Harry shut his eyes briefly and groaned. He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to agree with everything Louis had said, but he knew he couldn't just deny it.

“You can't keep stringing along a girl like that,” Louis lowered his voice. “It's unfair to her, and mostly, it's unfair to Zayn. But I understand your reason. You want to fit in. But at what cost, Harry? Your happiness? Zayn's?”

Silence followed, and Harry watched Louis' face. He looked like he was debating whether to say something or not. But before he could, Harry spoke, “I can't lose him again.”

Louis smiled gently. “Then don't.” His smile faded, and his voice grew softer than before. “I made that mistake once. Wouldn't want my friend to do the same.”

Harry's eyes widened when it registered a few seconds later. “But... Eleanor?”

Louis shrugged. “She knows. She helps me lay low, and I help keep suitors at bay so she can focus on school. It's what we both want,” and he added as an afterthought. “For now.”

Harry felt special that Louis shared this with him, and he felt a sudden rush of affection for the other boy. Though he had always known, it was clear that Harry had been incredibly selfish, and he didn't really want to _hide_ Zayn from the world. “Thanks for trusting me with that. I won't tell anyone.”

“I know,” Louis replied simply.

“I've got things to do now, huh?”

“Yeah, you really do.”

Harry put the large Shakespeare book back on the shelf, walked back to the table to grab his backpack, then rushed out of the library. He didn't want to be the kind of guy to get stuck with a fake girlfriend, and he felt bad that Louis had to go through all that. Sure, it was his choice, but that wasn't the kind of life Harry wanted for himself. It wasn't what he wanted for Zayn.

Breaking up with someone was tough to do, and in many ways, it was harder for the person initiating the break up. Even though Harry didn't like Taylor in  _that_ way, nor did he want to linger in this relationship, he couldn't help but feel bad for the girl. He knew she really liked him, and that she probably had girlish fantasies of having it all. But he wasn't the guy for that. Not for her, at least.

Needless to say, Taylor didn't take it well. She was genuinely surprised that they were breaking up, and even said with a whimper, “But I wrote a song about you...” Harry was adamant, but he tried to be as gentle as he could. No matter how cordial a person tries to be during a break up, there's really nothing friendly about it. There's always that subtle 'you're not good enough' but that really wasn't the case. Harry just didn't really like girls, and that was in no way Taylor's fault, but he wasn't about to tell her that now. Not that he'd get the chance, since she turned around dramatically, and ran off. 

He felt sort of bad, but a huge weight had been lifted. It needed to be done for his sake, and for Zayn's sake. He checked his watch and saw that it was rather late, so he knew exactly where Zayn would be at this time. 

-

Harry climbed the stairs to the art room, and stopped to watch Zayn just for a moment. He always loved to watch him in his element, and he would wonder what went on in Zayn's head as he was painting. Did he think in words or colors? He waited for the boy to lower his brush before he crept up behind him, and slipped both arms around his waist. Zayn stiffened for a second, then relaxed, and leaned back a little against Harry's chest. Harry loved that he could do this now, that he didn't have to constantly question what sort of touching would be appropriate between him and Zayn. Now he knew. Now he could do everything. 

“I'm sorry for biting your lip the other day,” Zayn said quietly. Harry just kissed his shoulder, then looked up at the painting. It was the one he had been forced to ruin, but it was starting to look like its original state again. Better, even. 

“It still hurts, you jerk,” Harry tightened his hold a little, and kissed up to his neck so Zayn knew that he wasn't really mad. 

Zayn sighed, and made a move to turn to face him, so Harry was forced to let go. “I'm sorry I didn't understand how scared you were. It was stupid of me to think that all of this would be easy for you. It doesn't really come easy to anyone, does it?” he took Harry's hand, holding it tightly in his own. “It's not easy for me either.”

Harry smiled, and lifted his free hand to brush his fingertips against Zayn's cheek. “I broke up with her today. Not because you told me to, but because it's what I wanted.”

Zayn's hazel eyes softened, and his lips parted a bit, and Harry couldn't resist the opportunity to lean in and kiss him. He could tell that Zayn had a cigarette not too long ago, and he found that he really loved the taste of it, but only when it was on Zayn's tongue. They stayed in that position for a while, Zayn sitting on the stool, and Harry standing in between his legs, with their lips attached, showing no signs of pulling back. Feverish kissing and wandering hands, fingers caressing necks, faces, arms, beneath shirts, and dipping below waistbands, this was what they did to make up for lost time. And they both knew they deserved it.

They finally broke the kiss, the both of them breathing a little heavily, and taking each other in. Sometimes, afterwards was the best part. 

“You look like art,” Zayn murmured.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. They were in a room surrounded by exquisite paintings, and the boy who was the most talented of them all called  _him_ art. But he liked to think he knew how Zayn felt. There were no words good enough, none beautiful enough to describe the way Zayn's lashes cast shadows over his cheeks, or how the golden flecks in his eyes stood out when he smiled. There was nothing in the works of Byron, Keats, or Wordsworth that could do this boy justice, no stanza, no line, absolutely nothing from the masters of words that could describe how Harry felt right here, right now. But this could be a new verse of its own, something that has yet to be written. Harry pressed his hand to Zayn's cheek, and whispered.

“You look like poetry.”


	16. 16

“Just come with me,” Harry insisted, but Zayn wouldn’t budge. He knew that Zayn wasn’t into attending any Greek events (though now he had quite a few Greek friends), but Harry wanted him there. Yes, he’d be with the rest of his brothers, but he liked knowing that Zayn would be within touching distance. And it was the annual Sigma Omega Delta talent show. Taylor’s sorority. Harry knew he’d have to feel her icy glare constantly on him, so Zayn’s presence would be a great comfort. “Please? You could be my date.”

That one little word seemed to change Zayn’s mind. He pursed his lips to the side, like he was now considering it. “Your date?”

Harry smiled, and nodded eagerly. “Yeah, my date. So what do you think?” he slid up to Zayn’s side, took his hand, and played with his fingers. He made sure that Zayn couldn’t say no.

There was silence, followed by Zayn muttering, “Fine.” Unwillingly caving in. It wasn’t easy saying no to Harry.

\- - -

It was a group of them making their way to the large auditorium, and the only ones not wearing Greek letters were Zayn and Liam. The two had sort of been adopted into the Alphas, and it was a common sight to see them in a crowd of letters.

“So when are we gonna make it official, Malik?” John, one of the Alphas, clapped him on the back. “Will we be seeing you for spring rush?”

“No!” Zayn answered a little too quickly. “I mean… no. I’ll leave running the school up to you guys.”

Harry’s fingers brushed against Zayn’s as they walked, briefly hooking their pinkies together, trying not to be obvious. He knew there was no way in hell Zayn was going to join a fraternity, and the guys constantly bugging him about it wasn’t going to change his mind. Harry liked that about Zayn. He liked how he wasn’t easily swayed. Harry slung an arm around Zayn’s shoulders, which was something he hoped looked strictly platonic to others.

But Zayn knew what it meant, and he seemed to take comfort in this action by leaning into Harry. And if anyone saw it differently, they didn’t comment, and they didn’t look at them strangely. But Harry hoped that they were subtle. He wasn’t ready to start answering questions.

There was a good turnout at the auditorium, and the boys opted for seats in the back. Harry and Zayn were conveniently seated at the back corner, shadowed enough for quick pecks on the lips, and hand-holding. Harry promised Zayn that this would be a date, and he wasn’t about to let him down.

The lights dimmed, and Harry reached over to lace his fingers with Zayn’s, who gave them a gentle squeeze in return. Harry really didn’t care much about the talent show. He just wanted to be in a social setting with Zayn, and show him that he was starting to be a little brave. It might not be completely there yet, but he wanted the boy to see how much he was trying.

He was sitting there, enjoying their tangled fingers, when Taylor walked out on stage. Harry couldn’t help but groan. Of course she would be performing.

“Hi, everyone! I’m Taylor!” she chirped into the microphone. “I’ll be singing something I wrote. It’s called ‘Green Eyes and Lies.’”

Harry froze, and he could feel Zayn twitch beside him. They turned to look at each other, Zayn’s expression slightly amused.

“ _I met a boy, as cute as can be, and I wanted him to myself, oh couldn’t he see?_ ” Taylor sang. “ _And once he was mine, I couldn’t help but revel. But little did I know, he was THE DEVIL!_ ” 

Zayn snorted, and clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter, and Harry, who was completely unamused, elbowed him. 

“ _Green eyes and lies, green eyes and lies!_ ” Taylor wailed into the microphone. “ _Everything, everything was a surprise. Green eyes and lies, green eyes and lies. I truly despise your curls and your smile. I hope you know that you ran out of luck, and I hope you get run over by a pickup truck!_ ” 

Harry could hear Louis’ laughter to his right, along with Liam trying to shush him but failing miserably because he ended up laughing too. This was a nightmare, and he was now made immortal through song. Zayn was absolutely no help, since he found this entire thing to be incredibly funny.

“Oh, I’m glad you think this is funny,” Harry whispered to him.

Zayn had been trying so hard to muffle his laughter, he had to wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll stop.” But he didn’t, and Harry had to elbow him again.

What a great start this was. Now all Harry wanted to do was go back to his room, and hide under the covers. Preferably, with Zayn. So he leaned over to his ear, “Let’s go.”

Zayn didn’t need to be told twice, and Harry could tell that he was more than happy to leave. But Louis pouted and insisted they stay, saying, “Aw, don’t go. She might sing one more song titled ‘Your Demon Curls Infuriate Me.’ Don’t miss out on that.” And all that did was encourage Harry to quickly make his way out of the auditorium with Zayn in tow.

“It was quite a catchy tune,” Zayn said as they made their way back to The Redwoods. “How’d it go again? Oh right. _Green eyes and lies, green eyes and lies_ —” Harry pressed a hand over Zayn’s mouth to keep him from singing, and he laughed against Harry’s palm.

“Yes, ha ha ha, but you won’t be laughing later, as I won’t kiss you at all tonight. How’s that for funny?”

Zayn slid an arm around Harry’s waist, playfully slipping his fingertips beneath his shirt. “I think you’re a liar, Styles.”

Harry had to admit silently to himself that Zayn was right, and that they would probably latch on to each other the second they got to the room. But Harry couldn’t wait, and he was sure there was nobody around to see them right now, so he leaned over and caught Zayn’s lips with his own. They were locked in a soft and slow kiss for a few seconds before pulling back, smiling.

“Isn’t that sweet?” came a voice behind them. Harry and Zayn quickly stepped away from each other, and turned around. Victor smirked at them. “I knew there was something off about you two. Should’ve known you were a couple of fags.”

Harry lunged forward, but Zayn grabbed a hold of him around his waist and pulled him back, speaking calmly into his ear. “Leave it, Harry. Leave it.” 

“Yes, Harry, leave it,” Victor smiled, as he held up his phone. “I’ve got a nice little video of you two right here. I know Zayn wouldn’t mind if I spread it around. Art fags have such radical views.”

Harry clenched his teeth, and tried to squirm out of Zayn’s grip, wanting nothing more than to punch Victor in his smug face. There’s was no way this asshole could insult Zayn and get away with it.

“But you, Harry…” Victor continued. “You’re a different story. I know the type of person you are. You actually _care_ about this slipping out. You hear that, Zayn? He’s ashamed of you.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Harry shouted, finally loosening Zayn’s grip on him. He walked up to Victor and shoved him backwards. “You don’t know anything—”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Victor positioned his thumb over one of the buttons on his phone. “One click, and this goes to everyone.” Harry’s furious expression melted away, and was replaced by fear. “That’s more like it. So how about you stay out of my way, hm? Actually, how about you try and get me and my friends back into the fraternity, and this video stays safe with me. Well, until I find a reason to bring it up again.”

Zayn quickly moved forward, grabbed Harry by the arm, and dragged him back. But before they walked away, he shot Victor a glare. “You’re a bit of a prick, aren’t you? Are you compensating for a tiny dick? Or are you a flaming homosexual yourself? Probably both, yeah?” Victor’s face reddened, and Zayn just laughed. “Good luck with years of therapy, asshole.” 

They swiftly made their way to their room, and Harry slammed the door shut. “Fuck,” he hissed. “He has a fucking video.” He began to pace, while dragging his fingers through his hair.

Zayn sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed his arms. “So you’ve got a few homophobic assholes at this school. It doesn’t mean everyone will feel the same way. Last time I checked, it’s 2012. We’re not going to get tarred and feathered.” 

Harry abruptly stopped pacing. “You just don’t get it!”

“I don’t get what?” Zayn stood up. “That it’s easier to hide it? That it’s easier to just sneak around, and not be able to hold hands when we want to? Get a couple of fake girlfriends, who eventually turn into fake wives, and we pretend to go on ‘business trips’ just so we could spend a few days with each other? Be incredibly unhappy for the rest of our lives, all because it’s _easier_? Right, Harry, I just don’t get it.”

Harry just shook his head, and looked away. But Zayn was suddenly standing in front of him, unzipping his jeans. “W-What are you doing?” Harry’s cheeks flushed, and he leaned back against the edge of the desk.

“I do it better than any stupid girl can. I’m not something you could just hide, and you damn well should be proud to have me,” Zayn’s hand plunged down Harry’s boxers, taking a hold of his cock, and feeling it harden in his grip. And before Harry could utter another word, Zayn dropped to his knees, yanking down his boxers and jeans together in one fluid motion, letting them sit just below his hips.

Harry gripped on to the edge of the desk behind him, completely caught off guard. He never expected to have Zayn in this position so soon. But he wasn’t really given much of an opportunity to speak since he was distracted by the way Zayn bit the skin on his hip bones, bruising them, and causing Harry to whimper. Zayn was touching and kissing  _everywhere_ , ignoring his taut skin, aching for attention. He bucked forward, but Zayn grabbed on to his hips, forcing him to be still. Harry felt desperate and vulnerable, as he was unable to move, and Zayn had all the power.

“Zayn…” he whined.

Zayn’s eyes flickered up to meet Harry’s, and he smirked. He held Harry’s gaze, as his tongue crept out, swiping against his leaking tip. Harry whimpered again, letting out a string of incoherent pleading, and Zayn finally gave in. 

Harry liked to watch. He liked watching half of his length disappear into Zayn’s mouth, and he enjoyed seeing how new all of this was to Zayn. The boy gagged a little, pulled away, then dove right back in. Harry liked watching almost as much as he liked  _feeling_ . The warmth and wetness of Zayn’s mouth was enough to send him over the edge in a matter of seconds, but he held back. He tangled his fingers through Zayn’s hair and tugged lightly, especially when Zayn did something he liked. Harry also found that he particularly enjoyed feeling the movement of Zayn’s head, bobbing back and forth. Soon, there was that dull and familiar ache pooling just below his navel, a feeling that came much too quickly.

“Z…” his breath hitched in his throat, and he tilted his head back. “I’m…” Harry inhaled sharply through his gritted teeth, feeling himself reach his climax. He trembled as he rode out his orgasm, with Zayn still latched on to him, milking him dry.

Harry’s breathing came out short and jaded, and for a moment, he could barely hold himself up. Zayn got to his feet, wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, and gave a smug half-smile. 

“Good?”

Harry nodded, replying hoarsely. “Good.” 

Zayn made his way over to the bed, feeling quite proud of himself that he was able to bring Harry to that point, during his first time too. “Come to bed, Harry. Let’s sleep.” But he just felt a pair of hands turn him over, forcing him to lay on his back. Harry’s fingers trailed down his stomach, playing at his waistband. He smiled.

“My turn.”


	17. 17

Zayn was warm, and comfortable, but despite his comfort, his heart was racing. It was late Friday afternoon, and Harry was in his arms, reading from one of his poetry books. Whenever he spoke, Zayn could feel puffs of his breath against the skin of his neck, and it gave him chills.

"I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair," Harry read in his low voice. "Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps." 

Zayn brushed his fingertips up and down Harry's arm, smiling a little when he felt goosebumps arise at his touch. He closed his eyes, as he listened to him. He loved the soft slowness of his voice.

"I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the color of a savage harvest, hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails, I want to eat your skin like a whole almond." Harry craned his head up a little, and Zayn dipped his head down to meet him half way so they could share a kiss. 

Harry shut the book, and sat up, then moved to straddle Zayn's hips. He smiled and lowered himself down, murmuring the rest of the poem, his lips only an inch from Zayn's. "I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face," he brushed a fingertip just below Zayn's left eye. "I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes."

Zayn's lips parted, and he held Harry's eyes with his own heavy-lidded gaze. Those words, and that voice was enough to fuel his growing desire, and he wanted _more_.

"... and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight," Harry continued, dropping his voice down to a whisper. "hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue." He barely let out the last syllable, and their lips sought out each others again, kissing hungrily, in long and languid movements. 

Ever since the night of the talent show, they had been unable to keep their hands off each other. And untangling themselves every morning that week proved to be the hardest thing they had ever done. Zayn often thought about sex. Sex with Harry. They had come close, but it never got to that point since they were both inexperienced when it came to, well... guys. But god, he wanted to.

Harry slipped off Zayn's body, and snuggled up against his side instead. Zayn noticed that Harry had become more affectionate, and a bit clingier than usual. But what he found to be strange was that he _liked_ it, and he hoped it would continue on. He liked this new clingy romantic Harry, who read him poetry, and couldn't get through five minutes without touching him. 

Zayn nuzzled into Harry's neck. "Almost dinner time."

"No," Harry mumbled. "Let's stay here."

"Aren't you hungry?"

"I could just, you know, eat you," Harry began to play with the button of Zayn's jeans.

Zayn laughed, "You're gross." But he didn't fight him on it. And just as he was getting more and more excited at the prospect of a blowjob, the door swung open.

"REALLY? AGAIN?"

Harry slid off Zayn, and muttered. "Sorry, Liam."

"A text, guys. A sock on the door. Something. Anything." Liam held the door open as Niall and Louis trailed in behind him. 

"Ugh, what is this? What we have here is a new couple in their honeymoon stage," Louis jumped into bed with Harry and Zayn. "Cherish it, you two. Soon you'll be bickering about bills, chores, what school to send your kids too-- ow!" Harry had shoved him off the bed.

Zayn tried his best not to blush. He and Harry never really talked about the status of their relationship, and it wasn't like he cared about that kind of thing. He wasn't getting off with anyone else, and he knew Harry wasn't either. But there was something so next level about being a couple, and he didn't want that word scaring Harry off. But Harry either didn't seem to mind, or he didn't notice, since he laced his fingers with Zayn's, and leaned against his shoulder.

"Are you two finished doing what you're doing? Because if you haven't noticed, it's nearly 5:30, and the cafeteria opens at 5:30..." Niall raised his eyebrows, expecting everyone to be on the same schedule as him when it came to dinner. 

Liam nudged Niall's arm. "Let's start walking. The rest will follow. Herd mentality."

The three boys walked out the door, and Zayn slipped off the bed, pulling a very whiney and reluctant Harry with him. Even though the thought of him and Harry having a couple hours to themselves was tempting, he enjoyed the dinner rush at the cafeteria with his friends, and whoever was at the loud and boisterous Alpha table. It was a bit weird to be liking their company, especially with his thoughts of them at the beginning of the semester. 

Zayn had to keep himself from holding Harry's hand as they walked, but his fingers twitched, feeling strange to be free of Harry's grip. He didn't think anything was wrong with it, and their friends never showed discomfort. But the only ones who knew were their roommates, and that hardly counted as anything. 

Throughout dinner, Harry would purposely nudge his leg against Zayn's, or brush their arms together, but besides that, they didn't touch. Zayn couldn't help but want more from him, but he knew that it was something Harry was hesitant to give. It's not something Zayn would force, but it would always nag at him in the back of his mind, and he was sure Harry knew it. 

On the way back to their building, Zayn suddenly stopped walking. "Hey, I'm gonna go to the art room for a bit."

Harry frowned. "You are? Can I come with you?"

Zayn shook his head, but he put a hand on Harry's arm and squeezed. "I really need to concentrate. But I'll go straight to your room after."

This seemed to satisfy Harry, and he nodded. "Okay." He looked around to make sure no one was around, and he pressed a quick kiss to Zayn's cheek before hurrying back to their building. 

\- - - 

As much as he liked to be with Harry, there was just something about being alone with his artwork that nothing could quite reach. He was curled up on a chair, with a notebook on his lap, working on a paper. For some reason, words came easier to him when he wrote it by hand. He'd transfer it on to his laptop later on, but staring at a screen for hours at a time gave him a headache. 20% was spent on working on the paper, but the remaining 80% was him doodling on the corners and sides of his notebook. He found himself drawing Harry a lot. He liked drawing his curls, the angle of his jaw, but most of all, he liked drawing his eyes. He liked the challenge of capturing their intensity.

"Not with your boyfriend?"

Zayn's head whipped up, and his eyes narrowed. He shut his notebook, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Victor laughed. "Sensitive, are we? I'm just here to talk. And since you seem to be in more of a relationship with the art room than you are with Styles, I thought I'd find you here."

"I have nothing to talk to you about. Leave me alone."

"You know what's sad? He's never going to come out. And you're going to be stuck in this limbo forever. Isn't that just the greatest thought in the world?"

Zayn didn't say anything. 

"While everyone around you is moving forward with their relationships, you and him won't. Because he's scared. And anyway, there really is no room for fags like you two in this world."

Zayn's eyes darkened, and he quickly stood up, walking towards Victor. "You fucking asshole." He advanced, and raised a fist, but Victor stepped back and pulled out his phone.

"Not so fast! You make a move, and this shit will go viral."

That was enough to make Zayn stop in his tracks. Harry would hate him if this got out, and it was the last thing he wanted. His stomach sank at the thought of not being able to do anything in this situation. He was at a loss. He knew exactly what Victor was doing. He wasn't stupid. He knew the other boy had a vendetta against Harry for compromising his place in the Alphas, and ruining him through Zayn was probably the easiest thing.

"What do you want?" Zayn asked quietly.

Victor pocketed his phone, and shrugged. "Break up with him. Leave him, and his little secret will never get out. Leave him, and he'll be safe." He grinned at Zayn's expression. "Wonderful. Glad we understand each other." And he turned to leave the art room, leaving Zayn with the decision he didn't want to make.


	18. 18

Zayn had been silent all day, lost in his thoughts, trying to think of ways around Victor's deal. If there was a potential exit, he latched on to it until he would come to the conclusion that it didn't work out. There was no way out of it. He would either have to convince Harry that it was okay to openly be with him (which Harry just wouldn't do), or just break it off and spare him the embarrassment. The both of them had been put through way too much shit, and they just couldn't catch a break. Zayn couldn't help but think that their relationship was cursed, and it wasn't even a legitimate _relationship_. Was it?

If he stayed with Harry, Victor would leak the video, and Harry would leave him. If he broke it off with Harry, he'd probably be fed up with Zayn's constant mind-changing, and he would go. Either way, the end result doesn't get him Harry. And it just wasn't fair. Nothing was ever fair in Zayn's life, and the second he got something that finally made some sort of sense, it was abruptly ripped away.

"Zayn?" came Liam's voice, soft and hesitant. Zayn hadn't even noticed that Liam was in the room with him, but he didn't feel like talking. If he talked it out, it meant that he'd be closer to coming to a conclusion, and he didn't want that. 

First option: lose Harry.

Second option: lose Harry.

This wasn't something he could win, and it didn't matter which way it went. He would still come out to be the loser.

"Zayn?" Liam spoke again, a little louder this time, and Zayn had no choice but to acknowledge him.

"I'm fine," was all he said, even though he hadn't been ask. "I'm fine, I just need to think."

"Think about what?" Liam asked.

He didn't want to answer that. He didn't want Liam's advice because he knew exactly what he would say. _Tell Harry._ No, he didn't want to tell Harry. He didn't want to feel the inevitable heartbreak when he'd be told that living a simple and normal life was much better than potential happiness with a bit of hardship. He knew Harry enough to predict his answer, and he just wasn't ready for that. He wasn't ready to be cast off to the side again.

There was a knock on the door, and before anyone could say "come in," in barged Harry and Niall. 

"I've brought you a present, Liam!" Harry announced, as Niall tackled Liam on to his bed, begging to teach him a few math problems, since he had a test in a few days. 

"Not a very good present," Liam grumbled beneath Niall's weight, but his smile showed that he didn't really seem to mind. "Okay, get off. Library time."

Niall groaned, but he rolled off him, and the pair headed out of the room.

Harry kicked off his shoes, and hopped up on Zayn's bed, immediately snuggling into his side. This had been the routine. Harry would pop in for cuddles until nighttime came around, and he'd either stay in Zayn's room, or Zayn would head over to his. It was quite couple-y, and Zayn often wanted to ask, but he held himself back. And anyway, it wouldn't matter anymore. The thought of that hurt so much.

His arms circled around Harry, pulling him in as close as he could. The heat of Harry's skin, and the scent from his hair comforted him. He could pretend that it would be like this forever. No Victor, no expectations, no public. Just him and Harry, in a small bed, wrapped up in each other.

Zayn's fingers slipped beneath Harry's shirt, his thumb tracing circles over his hipbones. "Tell me a poem," he whispered.

Harry was quiet for a moment, then a small smile appeared on his lips. He shifted his position a little so he was completely facing Zayn. Brushing his fingertips over Zayn's cheeks, Harry spoke in a low voice, "I carry your heart with me, I carry it in my heart. I am never without it. Anywhere I go, you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling." He gently pushed Zayn on his back, and he moved to lay on top of him, the tips of their noses brushing. "I fear no fate, for you are my fate, my sweet. I want no world, for beautiful you are my world, my true. And it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you."

Zayn was completely lost in this bliss, and he shut his eyes, basking in Harry's warmth and words. Harry's lips were now on his throat, and he shivered at the heat of his breath, and the movement of his mouth. Zayn could almost _feel_ the words being etched on his skin.

"Here is the deepest secret nobody knows," Harry murmured against his neck. "Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud, and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide, and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart." He trailed kisses to Zayn's jawline, across his cheek, then finally his lips. "I carry your heart, I carry it in my heart."

Zayn sighed and trembled, as if he had reached an orgasm. From the top of his head, to the tip of his toes, he was filled with such pleasure, and it gripped him so tightly. He arched up against Harry, and he gazed up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Do you mean it?"

Harry kissed him long and hard, and without breaking lip contact, he whispered, "I mean it."

It was almost like making love. Only Harry's voice and words could bring him to such a point, to the brink of passion, that everything else he had encountered with other people paled in comparison. _This_ was pleasure. 

But he won't be able to keep this for long. That single thought caused Zayn to crash back down to reality, and all the warmth he felt was soon replaced with a growing sickness. How was he supposed to live without Harry now? How was he expected to endure it? And before he could stop himself, tears filled his eyes, and spilled out the corners.

"Shit," he hissed, and draped an arm over his eyes to shield them. But it was too late, and Harry had seen.

"Zayn," Harry's voice was full of concern, and he tried to tug the boy's arm. "What is it? What's wrong?"

There was nothing he could say that wouldn't ruin this, and it was the last thing he wanted. All he wanted was Harry, poetry, and this bed, but none of that could stop what was to come. More tears leaked from his eyes, and he sniffed.

"Zayn!" Harry was desperate now, and yanked his arm to reveal his tear-stained face.

And it happened. The thing when words moved quicker than thoughts. Zayn had no control over it, and he looked up at Harry through his blurry vision. He took a deep breath, and choked out the words.

"I love you."

Zayn realized the words escaped his lips, and it was too late to undo it. He averted his gaze, unable to look at Harry's face. It wasn't that he didn't mean them, he just hadn't meant to _say_ them. Not now. Not out loud. Not when everything was about to be ruined. He sat up quickly, pushed Harry off him, and shoved on his shoes before bolting out of the room, ignoring Harry shouting his name. He made his way out the building, then ducked behind the bushes the second he heard footsteps pounding behind him. Harry, oblivious to Zayn's hiding spot, ran right past him, still calling out his name. 

Everything was supposed to be perfect. It was on the way of being everything Zayn wanted, but there was always something out to ruin it. He had never witnessed such bad luck in any relationship before, but it seemed like he and Harry were doomed before they could even really start. 

When Harry was finally out of sight, he stepped out from behind the bushes, and ran the opposite direction. He wasn't exactly sure where he was going, but he knew he had to get off campus, at least for a while. The area around Highlands was quiet, and the neighborhood was lined with quaint little houses. Zayn decided it'd be safe, and he figured that Harry wouldn't leave the school to search for him here. 

For the first hour he walked, he thought of everything. He rehearsed what he was going to say to Harry. He would tell him that he understands, and that he sees why they couldn't be together. He would tell him that he cares too much, and because of that, he needs to let Harry go. And he would say that the "I love you" was a heat of the moment thing, and hopefully, Harry would buy it. They would part ways once and for all, and Zayn would feel no hostility or anger like before. He had to let Harry go because he loved him.

For the second hour, he thought of nothing. His brain was blank, and exhausted, and it registered small things like "it's cold" or "my feet hurt." Zayn looked up at the sky, and saw that the stars were coming out. The sun had set, and he had barely noticed. He didn't know where he was, and he silently cursed himself for wandering aimlessly in a place so unfamiliar. But he had been walking in a straight line, so all he had to do was turn around and walk back.

It took an hour and a half.

By the time he got back to campus, he was beyond tired, and just wanted to collapse in his bed. He dragged his feet all the way to his building, but he suddenly stopped when he saw Harry sitting on the steps. Before he could get away, Harry lifted his eyes, caught sight of him, and stood up quickly.

"Why the fuck did you run off like that? Where the fuck did you go?" he was angry, and rightfully so. Zayn would've been angry too. He just shrugged and remained quiet. "No, you can't do that. You can't just run off and disappear for hours, then not tell me what's on your mind. It's not supposed to work like that!" Harry's eyes filled with tears of frustration, and his fingers were balled into fists. 

Zayn's heart fell. He was done with disappointing Harry, and he was no longer interested in mind games or prolonging any agony. He didn't want to tell him the whole truth, but he found himself just spilling everything. He told Harry about his encounter with Victor in the art room, and how Victor had threatened to spread the video if Zayn didn't leave him. 

Harry took a deep shuddering breath after Zayn stopped talking, and he rubbed his forehead. "Why is this happening? Why can't I be free of it?" he gritted his teeth, and his eyes flashed with anger. "I just want to go. I just want to fly away from here. Can't I do that?"

Zayn looked down at the ground, and shrugged. "Maybe if I paint you wings."

The anger left Harry's eyes, and was replaced with what looked like defeat. "But you can't."

Zayn just nodded, "I know. So I've got to let you go." His voice trembled and cracked. "I want you to be happy at Highlands, and with the Alphas. I want you to fit in, and I want to see you smiling all the time. I don't want you sneaking around and being uncomfortable with me." Tears ran freely down his cheeks, and he didn't bother to wipe them away. He had to tell himself that this was a good thing, and that this was right for Harry. He loved him, so he'd go through all the necessary pain.

"Zayn--" Harry began to say, but Zayn just shook his head, and lifted a hand to silence him.

"Don't," he said. "It's okay. I'll be okay." He took a step towards Harry, closing the distance between them, and he leaned in. "Nobody's looking," he whispered before softly pressing their lips together. He stayed there, memorizing the way Harry smelled, the way he tasted, and how his skin felt. If he never had this again, then that'd be fine. It'd be okay. He had it once, and that should be enough, and he would always be grateful. He pulled away from him, and offered a shaky smile, then walked past him up to the building. 

Harry was it for him. But maybe second best wouldn't be so bad.


	19. 19

Harry was torn, and the worst part was, he shouldn't be. In fact, he really wasn't, because he knew exactly what he wanted. He was just a first class idiot who let his fears get the best of him.

_I love you_ , Zayn had told him. Harry replayed the moment in his head over and over, and a warm sensation flooded his body, filling him up until he was so full, he could burst. Zayn loved him. _Him_. That was a miracle in itself because Zayn didn't seem the type to just love anybody. And when Harry thought they had done a complete 180, they just seemed to go full circle, ending up where they had began. It wasn't by his choice too. Lately, their separations were never really his choice. Since their reunion at Highlands, he had always chosen Zayn. Always.

He thought about going to Louis for advice, or maybe even Liam. But he was tired of people telling him what to do, especially when it should always be his decision. Zayn deserved Harry's entire decision, all his own thoughts, all of his actions stemming from what he wanted to do, and not because of what someone else had said. Harry knew what he wanted, and he knew what he had to do.

"Guys?"

Louis and Niall looked up from their laptops. "What?" from Niall overlapping with "Yeah, Harry?" from Louis. 

Harry didn't answer right away, and he sat there, picking at a tear in his jeans. "If I weren't an Alpha anymore, the both of you would still be my friend, right?"

Niall snorted. "That's stupid. 'Course we would."

Louis was a little more concerned. "Why _wouldn't_ you be an Alpha?"

Harry shrugged. "Just one of those 'what ifs.' Don't worry about it. Can we head out for dinner now?" He figured the subject change would work, and he quickly shut his book before standing up to go look for his shoes. Lucky for him, his roommates seemed to accept it, and thoughts of food became priority. He peeked out into the hall to look at Zayn's door. It was shut, meaning that he and Liam were out, probably at the cafeteria already. Whenever one of them was present, the door would be latched. Good. Harry didn't want to run into him just yet.

Niall and Louis walked in front of him on their way to the cafeteria, discussing the potential meals for today. They hoped it would be brinner, but they had a strong feeling it would be burritos. Harry barely paid attention to his roommates' conversation, and it was all noise to him. He was distracted by the sickness in his stomach that hadn't left since Zayn let him go. Harry wanted to just kick himself for not telling Zayn that he really did want to stay, but he had been at a loss for words at that moment. Zayn cared enough about him to let him go. Zayn _loved_ him enough to let him go.

The cafeteria was packed. The Alphas held court, taking up two entire tables right in the middle. Colin, the Alpha president, was seated at the head of one of the tables. Harry felt his stomach turn. Sure, Colin was great, and so was the rest of their council, but he wasn't one hundred percent sure of their stance on certain things. On certain controversial things. Victor was seated in the corner of the cafeteria with his friends, who were all still suspended from the fraternity. He looked smug, and Harry just wanted to smack that smirk right off his face.

And there was Zayn. He was sitting by the window with Liam, and a few other people. Zayn, who looked sad and beautiful, and Harry could see the paint stains on his fingers. Harry's heart broke, because he was supposed to be sitting there with him, occasionally brushing against those paint-stained fingers of his. But Harry couldn't do that right now. Instead, he went to go pile food on his plate (it was brinner), and he sat down with his brothers. 

"Harry!" Colin clapped him on the back when he sat. "Where's Zayn? Isn't he supposed to be a permanent fixture at our table?"

Harry tried not to let it show on his face, but hearing that made his whole body hurt. Zayn was easy to love once he opened up to people, and even the Alphas saw that.

"He, um..." Harry began to say. He glanced over towards Zayn's table, and Colin followed his gaze.

"Ah," he nodded. "Disagreements? Don't worry about it. It passes, and you're right back to being friends again. Happens all the time."

Harry pushed around the food on his plate. It wasn't a disagreement. He knew there were no hard feelings, and that Zayn still loved him. 

"It's all about patience," Colin continued, but then he got distracted by another conversation going on to his left, and joined in there. 

Colin was right. It was about patience. But it was also about bravery, and acceptance. It was about a lot of things that Harry didn't have the words for right now, but they were all important, and all those things combined would help him get Zayn back.

He watched Zayn stand up, about to leave, and something inside Harry just snapped. He stood as well, his chair scraping noisily on the floor, and he quickly made his way towards Zayn before he could reach the door.

"Wait!" Harry grabbed Zayn's wrist, and Zayn whipped his head around, his brows furrowed, and his eyes wide with confusion.

"Harry, what are you--"

But Harry suddenly cut him off by pressing their lips together. A hush fell over the crowded cafeteria, and even though Harry was well aware that all eyes were on them, he didn't stop kissing Zayn. Harry's arms slipped around Zayn's neck, and he could feel the boy relax a little beneath his touch. It had been only a day, but Harry missed him, and how he felt and tasted. He belonged to Zayn, and Zayn was _his_ , and he'd be stupid to just let him go. 

Harry broke the kiss slowly, and pulled back to look Zayn directly in the eye. He remember how he felt when Zayn told him that he loved him, and he wanted to give him that exact same feeling. Harry needed for him to know that the feeling was mutual, and that it would always be that way. 

So he finally answered him. 

"I love you too."

Harry watched Zayn's eyes closely, looking for a reaction, maybe just a hint of how he was feeling. _Please take me back, please love me still_ , he pleaded silently. 

Zayn's eyes watered, and a faint smile appeared on his face. His hands found Harry's waist, and squeezed lightly. "I know." There was relief in his tone, and his voice was low and hoarse, like he had been dying to say those words for so long.

The both of them stood there, taking each other in, and slowly realizing what this moment meant. Years of friendship, misunderstandings, and differences, it all lead up to this. They were in love. 

Harry was back to being aware that they had an audience. A very big audience. He took a step back from Zayn, but still kept his hands on him, and forced himself to look at the cafeteria crowd. People's eyes were wide, and fixed on Harry and Zayn. 

A voice near the back called out "Fags!" and it was quiet obvious who it belonged to. Victor's table erupted in laughter. 

Harry's heart sank because he expected this. But he pulled Zayn in, holding him tightly, and gave him an encouraging smile. Zayn smiled back and began to tug him towards the door. 

"No." Harry pulled back from Zayn's grip, and made his way over to Victor's table. Victor stood up, a smirk playing on his face. "You need to grow the fuck up, Victor. Usually, I'd have hope for some people, but you're kind of a lost cause. You think 'Oh hey, by the way, I'm homophobic" looks good on your resume? Then you're pretty much fucked, because this is the 21st century, and people with your kind of thinking are in the minority. And guess what? I'm going to be happy with my boyfriend," Harry paused because his heart fluttered just by saying that word. He hoped Zayn wouldn't mind that this was his way of asking him. "And you can call me a fag all you want, but what do you get out of it? The whole school thinking that you're a fucking asshole. _That's_ what you get out of it."

Victor's ears turned pink, and he stood there, seething and silent. His friends sat quietly at the table, their heads bowed in defeat. Harry heard a number of chairs scraping the floor, and the sound of footsteps followed. An arm then draped over Harry's shoulders, and he turned to see Colin next to him along with the rest of the Alphas.

"Hate to break it to you, Harry," Colin said. "But you're not the first gay Alpha."

"Yep, that'd be me," John, who stood to Harry's left, raised his hand.

Colin rolled his eyes. "Don't brag. You're also not the first, John. Hush and let Mr. President speak." He turned back to Harry. "This was bugging you the whole time? You didn't know how to be out? Well shit, Styles, we wouldn't be brothers if we kicked you out just for that reason. Trust me, John would've been gone long time ago."

"You shut the fuck up, your wardrobe would be shit without me," John said as the others laughed. 

"Back to the point!" Colin gave Harry's back a little pat. "Point is, we're your brothers. It's a 'for life' thing, not a 'at our convenience' thing. This, right here--" he motioned to the Alphas standing around them. "-- is what you were initiated into. Not that." He pointed to Victor. " _That_ is not what we're about. Oh, and just in case it wasn't obvious, Victor, you're officially out of our organization." He looked at the boys still sitting at the table. "You guys as well." Victor and his group kept their eyes low as they grabbed their things, and quickly rushed out of the cafeteria.

"RUSH ALPHA DELTA EPSILON!" Louis shouted, pumping his fist into the air. The Alphas responded with whoops and hollers, and they returned back to their tables. Louis walked over to Harry and squeezed his arm. "I'm really proud of you."

Niall looped both arms around Harry's shoulders, "Hey, if I ever run into that motherfucker Victor, I'll kick him in the balls." And he released him so he could go sit next to Liam.

Zayn had suddenly ended up behind Harry, and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Thank you," he whispered into his ear.

Harry turned around to face him, tilting his head. "What are you thanking me for?"

Zayn smiled, and shrugged. "For choosing me."

Their hands found each others, and they laced their fingers. "I'll always choose you."

Zayn let go one of Harry's hands, so he could curl his fingers through Harry's hair. "And maybe my ears deceived me, but I think you had called me your boyfriend."

Harry's cheeks turned crimson and he lowered his eyes, then nodded. "Is... Is that okay?"

Zayn leaned in, gently brushing his lips against Harry's. "You know my answer." He began to lead Harry to the door, but stopped at Liam's table. "Harry and I are going back to the room. The door will be locked. Consider this a warning."

Liam looked to Niall. "Library time?"

Niall nodded. "Library time." 

With their cheeks flushed, and hearts racing at the thought of what was to come, Harry and Zayn quickly made their way out of the cafeteria, and back towards their dorms.


	20. Chapter 20

Zayn shuts the door behind them, and he almost winces at the sound of the _click_. This was it, they are alone in his room, and his hands are shaking at the possibilities. Harry's back is to him, and all Zayn wants to do is move up behind him, and slip his arms around his waist. But that would be initiating something, and he's too scared to. He's being stupid. Harry is _his_ now, and they love each other, so what was stopping them?

Harry turns around to face him, and he looks shy, all messy hair and dimples. Zayn finds the shyness endearing, and he makes his way over to him, placing his hands on his waist.

"You told Liam the door will be locked," Harry's voice is low, and he's barely looking at Zayn. But he slides his hands up his chest, placing them flat above where his heart is, and he feels it race.

"Yeah, I did," Zayn replies. His mouth is suddenly dry, and he feels a cold sweat on the back of his neck."

"Why though?"

Zayn rolls his eyes. "Don't be dumb, Harry."

Harry plays with the collar of Zayn's shirt, and he lets his fingers brush against the skin of his neck. Zayn shivers and leans in close, his breath ghosting over Harry's lips. Zayn can feel Harry tremble beneath his touch, so he loosens his grip. But before he can process another thought, Harry tackles him into bed, and laughs as they both tumble in. 

"Hi," Harry says, while he straddles Zayn's hips. And he doesn't give Zayn a chance to reply as he leans down and kisses him.

The kiss is heated, driven by the intense combination of lust and love, and everything else that built up to this moment. Zayn is sighing into the kiss, and bucking up against Harry, but he doesn't like this position much. He grips onto Harry's waist, keeps a firm hold on him, and rolls him over so that he's now on top. Harry's cheeks are flushed, and his mouth has formed a surprised "o" and it's so damn cute, Zayn has to kiss him again. He moves down, brushing his lips against his throat, and his collarbones, then he pushes the boy's shirt up to kiss down his chest and stomach.

Harry breaks out into a fit of giggles.

Zayn sighs, and sits up. "Really?"

Harry composes himself, and reaches out to him, "Sorry, sorry. Come back, do it again."

Zayn moves in again, alternating between kissing and nipping Harry's skin. He lowers himself down to his belly button, and he dips his tongue into it, and that does it. Harry laughs and squirms away from him, and Zayn is a little annoyed, but amused at the same time.

"Oh my god, I give up on you," he tries to look exasperated because he _really_ wants to do this with Harry, but it's hopeless, and Harry's just squirming around and laughing, batting Zayn away. The thing is, it's so damn cute. Zayn tugs Harry's shirt back down, and he lowers himself on the bed, then hitches Harry to his side. They spend the evening looking for all of Harry's ticklish spots. 

\- - - 

"If you two are naked, you've got approximately ten seconds to cover your bits," Liam cracks the door open an inch, and there's giggling in the back that sound very much like Louis and Niall. They throw the door open, and Louis shouts a very loud "SURPRISE!" but he falls silent seconds later. The three of them stand in the doorway, and just stare at the little scene in front of them.

Zayn and Harry, fully clothed, are sitting down on beanbags, and playing COD. 

"Wait, no. Zayn, there's someone round that corner, don't--"

"I know, I know, I wasn't going there. Harry, for chrissake, switch guns."

Niall looks from Zayn to Harry, then back to Louis and Liam. "They didn't do it," he says simply before going to join them on the beanbag chairs, trying to coax Harry into giving him the controller. Louis and Liam just look at each other. Louis rolls his eyes, and Liam shrugs, and they just go about the remainder of the evening playing COD, and raiding Liam's snack supply. 

\- - -

When Zayn is with Harry, time passes quickly. It's light outside one second, and dark the next, so he holds on to the moments, and he cherishes them, fearing it won't last. Harry is always there to reassure him, whispering in his ear that he loves him, and he's not going anywhere. Zayn believes him, and although he doesn't bring it up again, losing Harry is still his greatest fear. And though he doesn't bring it up, Harry can still tell, so he makes sure to hold his hand tightly, and kiss him where everyone can see.

Zayn, Harry, and Niall spend most of Christmas break with Liam, and Louis reluctantly goes back home after demanding "plenty of presents for when I get back!"

Liam's house is huge, and Zayn reckons it's big enough to house everyone on campus. Of course that's an exaggeration, but he does get lost in it once or twice. He and Harry don't share a room in order to be courteous to Liam's parents, and just like all parents, funny business was not encouraged under their roof. But rules were made to be broken, and Zayn sneaks into Harry's room late at night. He's run into Niall plenty of times during his secret trips down the hall, and Niall immediately goes red, and tells him that he's just going to use the bathroom. 

"I ran into Niall in the hall again," Zayn whispers after he snuggles in beneath the blankets, and presses himself to Harry's side. 

Harry lets out a quiet giggle, "Maybe he's having 'library time' with Liam."

"Oh god."

They pull the blankets over their heads to help muffle any sound, and they spend long hours kissing lazily, but they refrain from going any further. Harry had said that he didn't want to make a mess on these nice sheets, and Zayn had agreed. They needed to appear as angelic as possible if they wanted to be invited back.

But Zayn's head is elsewhere tonight. "Wanna get off?"

"The sheets!" Harry hisses, but Zayn is already moving down, and Harry is rendered motionless beneath his touch. "Zayn, the--"

"The sheets, I know," his eyes flicker up to Harry's face, and he smirks. "Don't worry. I'll swallow."

And the reasoning is enough for Harry.

\- - - 

It's almost unfair how quickly break ends, and they're right back on the grind. Zayn starts to see less of Harry because the Alphas are preparing for something they call "Greek Week."

"What the hell's Greek Week?" Zayn sits up in bed and watches Harry rummage around for a spare shirt before he runs off to one of his many meetings. 

"An attempt to unify all fraternities and sororities by pitting us against each other in competitions," Harry glances at Zayn. "Kind of ironic, right?"

"Well, that's... cute."

Harry snorts, then makes his way over to the bed, pressing a quick kiss to Zayn's lips. "Happy Hunger Games to me."

Zayn chuckles, "May the odds be ever in your favor."

\- - - 

Zayn makes his way back from the art room, and he hopes that Harry's back from being with his brothers, but he doubts it. Lately, he's been coming back at around 2 or 3 am, looking tired and miserable, and it makes Zayn think of Harry's days as a pledge. He's not sure if he likes it, but he doesn't have much of a say. 

"Art student Zayn Malik!" a voice calls out, and Zayn turns around. He sees it's Colin, and he lifts a hand and waves. The Alpha president jogs over to him, "I hear your art skills are unmatched."

"Oh, um..." Zayn smiles a little sheepishly. "I don't know about that."

"This is no time to be humble. Your boyfriend won't shut up about you." When Zayn hears that, he feels a rush of affection for Harry, but Colin continues before he can react. "The Alphas are in need of your talents. For one of our competitions, we need a cool-looking poster, and we want it to be the best. Now, I'm not asking you to do it all, but we need a little guidance. The best artist in our fraternity excels at making stick figures."

Zayn laughs at this, and he's about to answer, but he sees a group of boys make their way towards the two of them.

"Ah, the cavalry has arrived," Colin says, and he waves them over. All of them look tired and worn out, with visible bags under their eyes. Niall is leaning against one of the boys, and his eyes are shut. Zayn thinks he can hear him snoring.

Harry makes a beeline towards Zayn and practically collapses in his arms, "Sooo tired," he groans, and puts all his weight against Zayn. 

"Jesus Christ, Harry," Zayn tries to hold him up, then he looks to Colin. "What do you guys do all night?"

"Meth," Colin answers with a completely straight face. He keeps this up for several seconds, then he laughs. "One of the competitions is a skit, so we practice for that. Can't tell you what it's about though. Top secret."

Zayn just shakes his head. There was absolutely no way in hell he'd ever join a fraternity. He didn't know what they were on about half the time. 

"Oh, did you ask him?" Harry straightens up.

"I did," Colin says. "But he didn't give me an answer." And suddenly, all eyes were on Zayn.

He lets out a heavy sigh. "I don't really have much of a choice, do I?"

Colin pats him on the shoulder. "No, you really don't."

\- - - 

At the beginning of the school year, if someone told Zayn that one day he would have his room packed with bunch of loud fraternity boys, he wouldn't believe them. But here it was. 

Zayn is sitting on the floor in front of a large poster board, with the whole chapter of Alpha Delta Epsilon crammed into his room, and some out in the hall, kicking a soccer ball around. Liam and a few Alphas are squished on the bed, staring at a laptop, and laughing at youtube videos. It's chaos. 

"Okay, I want our poster's theme to be the Avengers," Colin says, but he's interrupted.

"Why not Spiderman?"

"Because Spiderman is a whiny bitch, and I'm president, so I make the rules!" A chip is thrown at Colin's face, followed by a fully-wrapped granola bar. "This is mutiny!" 

After throwing around superhero themes varying from Sailor Moon to Dragon Ball Z to Batman, they decide that it would just be the Avengers, after all. And Colin gets more food thrown at him after he's smug about it.

Zayn does a light sketch on the poster board, and he smacks away random hands that reach over and try to help. Everyone makes a game of it, and they creep over with pencils to annoy Zayn, and dodge him when he tries to bat them away. Harry is no help at all and he just laughs, but he sits behind Zayn and pulls him in, so that his chest is pressed to the boy's back. Harry rests his chin on Zayn's shoulder, watching in awe as his pencil flies over the poster.

Despite the noise, Zayn finds it's easy to concentrate. But he's got to bring out the paint, and he sort of dreads it because the combination of paint and dozens of Alphas isn't really the best of ideas. 

"I want to help!" Louis calls out, and the rest shout in agreement.

"No," Zayn says, "I've got to paint, and--"

"I can paint!" someone says. To which another person replies, "The only thing you can paint is fences, dumb redneck." And a scuffle happens right next to the poster board, and all the boys are laughing, and trying to pin each other down, and Zayn swears that everyone in this fraternity is gayer than he is. 

The boys leave eventually because they've got to practice for whatever competitions they've got, and Liam's left as well for the library, leaving Zayn alone with the poster. He's so caught up in his work, and he doesn't realize he's lost track of time until Harry walks back in.

"Didn't you just leave?" Zayn asks, blinking at him.

"Zayn, that was four hours ago," Harry sits on the floor next to him and nuzzles into his neck. "Mm, you smell like paint. And holy shit, the poster looks great." It's the Avengers standing in a row, and Captain America in the middle with "ΑΔΕ" on his chest.

"Thanks. I kinda like drawing comic book characters," Zayn wipes his cheek with his hand.

Harry laughs, and rubs Zayn's cheek, "You got paint on you."

Zayn swipes his finger over Harry's nose, "So do you."

"Hey!" Harry presses his hand on the paint palette, then smears the colors on Zayn's face.

Zayn gasps, then grabs Harry around the waist, and he's laughing while trying to wriggle away, but Zayn's grip is too strong. Zayn rubs his face against Harry's, trying to get all the paint on him, and they're both breathless with laughter, and equally messy with colors. The laughter dies down, and they're staring at each other, Zayn thinking that Harry looks adorable with his messy hair, tired eyes, and paint-stained skin. He feels like he's never loved him more than right now. 

Harry is the first to move, and he kisses him, slowly but firmly, like he knows what he wants. He slides his hands beneath Zayn's shirt, and scratches down his skin, causing Zayn to moan faintly against his lips.

"Zayn, I..." Harry's breath hitches in his throat, and he lets his hands wander over the expanse of Zayn's chest and stomach.

"What?" Zayn moves his lips to Harry's neck, "Tell me what you want."

Harry says one word. "You." And it's all Zayn needs.

They don't know what they're doing, and they're unsure how to start, but Zayn wants this, and the way Harry is staring up at him, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, he can tell the other boy wants this too. He pulls Harry's shirt over his head, and tosses it on the floor, then rids himself of his own shirt as well. Zayn's fingers are still a little wet from paint, so he draws a small heart on Harry's chest with his forefinger, and it makes Harry smile. 

"I want to keep that there," Harry says, and Zayn just gives him a quick kiss before pulling him off the floor, and up on the bed. They kiss again, slowly and passionately, trying to relax each other. Zayn's chest is pressed against Harry's, and his heart is racing, but so is Harry's, and he can't tell which heartbeat is his. They break the kiss, but their foreheads and the tips of their noses remain touching, and they stare at each other, trying to communicate _It's okay, it's okay, it'll be okay._

Zayn fumbles with the button and zipper of Harry's jeans with shaking fingers, and Harry lifts himself up to help Zayn with the removal of his clothes. Though he's already seen Harry naked, it takes his breath away each time, and he just sits there, letting his eyes wander over every inch of him.

"Zayn..." Harry whines. His cheeks have become redder, and Zayn knows he's shy about it. 

"Don't be nervous," Zayn says it more to himself than Harry, and he unbuckles his belt, then moves out of his jeans, and kicks them aside before settling down between Harry's legs. It was all skin and bedsheets with no barriers between them, and Zayn would be content if Harry doesn't want to go any further, but he really _really_ wishes the boy won't change his mind. He reaches over to his bedside table, opens the drawer and pulls out an unopened bottle. Harry's eyes widen at it. "So it won't hurt," Zayn explains. He's not sure why, but the motions embarrass him a little, and he wishes that sex could just be straightforward. But it's never just 'straightforward' with him and Harry, and he knows he shouldn't be embarrassed about any of this. The truth is, he's incredibly nervous, and his entire body is trembling.

"I love you," Harry whispers, and Zayn feels himself calm down a little.

"I love you too," he whispers back. His fingers are still shaking as he coats them with the cold slippery substance, but he forces himself to continue on. "Relax, okay?" Harry takes a deep breath and nods. Zayn moves his hand in between Harry's legs, his middle finger finding the small opening, gently circling it.

Harry whimpers and pushes up a little, and Zayn hushes him with a kiss. He slowly slides a finger in, keeping his eyes on Harry's face to check for any discomfort or pain, and Harry gives him a nod to let him know he's okay. But his eyes are wide and nervous. Zayn twists his hand a little, getting Harry accustomed to the feeling, then pushes in a second finger. Harry twitches, and then tenses, digging his nails into Zayn's shoulder. Zayn curls his fingers upward, and Harry gasps before pushing up against him.

"W-What's... that-- fuck," Harry hisses when Zayn does it again, and he inhales deeply, a thin sheet of sweat already developing on his chest. Goosebumps form on his skin, and his muscles are clenched.

Zayn loves this. He loves watching Harry completely fall apart underneath him, and he gets a high out of it. He pulls his fingers out, and Harry groans at the lack of contact. His skin is flushed, and he's breathing heavily as he tries to grab at Zayn to pull him back.

"Babe, be patient," Zayn scolds him gently, and Harry whines. He squeezes a generous amount of lube into his palm, then slicks himself up thoroughly, wanting to make this as comfortable as he can for Harry. 

This is better than he expects. Better than anything he can dream of. Harry is warm, tight, and perfect, and Zayn would have exploded right then and if it wasn't for complete willpower. Harry's nails rake down Zayn's back in a pleasurable and painful way that he can't really understand, but he takes it, and loves it. Harry's legs are locked around Zayn's waist, and he's letting out faint whimpers, and whispers of _"please, please..."_ and _"don't stop"_ and chanting Zayn's name like it's a prayer, and it's the prettiest thing Zayn has ever heard.

They're rocking against each other, and Harry's cock is aching, and trapped between their stomachs. He's moaning at the delicious friction, and it's overwhelming enough that he almost forgets the pain. "Zayn!" he chokes out, and he's the first to come, and Zayn follows close behind. Their orgasms are blinding, earth-shattering, and they need to take several minutes to recover.

Zayn stays buried inside Harry, unwilling to detach himself from him, but he couldn't very well stay there all night, especially when Liam could walk in at any second. They both groan in unison when Zayn pulls back, and he rolls off of Harry to settle down by his side.

"You're incredible," Zayn murmurs. 

Harry cuddles up to Zayn and kisses his shoulder. "I'm happy. You make me happy."

They lay there in silence, completely sated, and so full of love for each other, they just don't want to move. But they couldn't sleep in these messy sheets, so Zayn kisses Harry's cheek a few times to wake him up a little, then drags him up so they can go take a quick shower. It's not an easy task to pull a half-asleep Harry out of bed, but Zayn manages. After they wash themselves, they change into t-shirts and boxers, then go into Harry's room to sleep in his clean sheets.

"I think I'm in love with you," Harry whispers as they start to fall asleep. 

Zayn's eyes shut and he smiles. "I think I'm in love with you too."

\- - - 

_Three years later._

Zayn looks in the mirror and fixes his tie, then he tucks his necklace beneath his shirt. The charm dangling from it are Harry's fraternity letters, and he likes that his boyfriend can share that with him. Non-fraternity members aren't allowed to wear the letters, unless it's a serious significant other. Zayn swells with pride when he wears them. 

Harry walks into the room wearing his graduation robes, grinning from ear to ear. "We made it."

"Yeah, we did," Zayn makes his way over to Harry and fixes his collar. 

Harry runs a finger over the silver chain around Zayn's neck, then looks up to meet his eyes. "I keep forgetting to ask you..."

"Hm?"

"Our high school graduation, you were wearing the jacket I gave you."

Zayn bites his bottom lip and nods. "Yeah. I was."

"Why? We weren't even friends then. I thought you hated me."

There was a silence, and Zayn just shakes his head and looks down. "I didn't hate you. I never hated you. All I did was miss you. And I thought that'd be the last time I saw you, and I didn't think I'd be taking off my robes that day. It was supposed to be a secret, something that only I'd know. It was a way of saying goodbye to you."

Harry moves in and wraps his arms around Zayn's waist, and rests his head on his shoulder. "Now you'll never have to say goodbye to me." 

They stay that way, wrapped up in each other, until the door is thrown open, and Liam, Niall, and Louis barge in.

"GRADUATION!" they shout, and jump in between Zayn and Harry. It's a bunch of whooping, and clapping each other on the back, and Niall pretends to burst into tears. Liam just laughs and pulls him into his arms, causing Louis to roll his eyes and complain about how he's the only single one in the group. He then yells "Let's go, boys!" and herds them out of the room.

Zayn takes a hold of Harry's hand, lacing their fingers together, and giving it a light squeeze. It's bittersweet saying goodbye to Highlands, and the future is scary and unknown. But the only things he's sure of are his three best friends, and the boy next to him. Suddenly, the future isn't so bad.


End file.
